Smallville: The Wolires' Rise
by TryxterWolfe
Summary: Riley, a girl kicked out of her home in Vermont, is sent to Smallville to live with her cousin, Lex Luthor. Durring her stay, she discovers she has abnormal powers, and also finds out about the powers of another... Green on Chapter 13! R&R, please!
1. A Change in Life

PG-13: Rated for language and maybe a few violent scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville or the characters within the story. But I do own Wolires. Plus Riley and a few other characters.

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Sitting at the table was a drag. The reason why? I was in trouble. The table was the place for 'family talks', which meant that I was to be told to never do whatever it was, again. The usual nightly lecture.

My step-mother, whom I called Ann to her face, but behind her back, it was Evil-Bitch-From-Hell. I thought it fit her well. Even though I already had a name picked out for her, she actually insisted that I call her _mother_.

Two words: Fat chance. I had a mother.

And she was great. I wished she was back, but lucky me was stuck with _Malibu Barbie_.

Evil-Bitch-From-Hell, I mean, _Ann_, was tall, slender, with rich, blond hair. You know, the kind that came from a bottle. She had press-on nails, which she bought with Dad's cash, and a plastic chest. Also, from Dad's bank account. Everything she bought was with his money. Gee, that's surprising.

She was only a few years older than I was, me being 17, and her being around 21 or so. She was old enough to be my big sister, though I was glad she wasn't. Sibling rivalry would be second-degree murder...

My wonderful father, whom I despised for marrying this evil ditz, walked in after. He was in the usual business suit, black hair, dusted with old age, was gelled and slicked into place. His face was solemn and unfeeling. Well, he was trying to be. I could read in his gray eyes that he felt like he was going to cry. The lines in his face were deeper than usual. I always thought he looked older than he actually was, which was 43, but at the moment, he looked like he was 60.

He stood next to the counter, behind Ann, who sat down next to me. She had smeared that anguished and pained look on under her bright red lipstick and make-up that seemed to be slapped on by a putty knife. She always wore too much. My mother rarely wore any. My mother was always beautiful, even without make-up. She had that kind of subtle, but very noticeable face. One that you didn't forget. I'd never forget her broad, gentle smile, her bright green eyes... even her laugh could echo in my ears from time to time. Those were the nights that I would stay awake to see if I could hear her, again.

But right now, I was being stared at with eyes that were behind blue-colored contacts. She gave me a small smile, trying her best to look sad, yet trying to hide it at the same time. She was a good actress... around people who couldn't read her fake emotions.

Something was up, and it wasn't to my benefit.

"Riley," Ann said, gently to me, resting on her forearms as she leaned into the table to look straight at me, "Honey, what happened?"

"Don't call me 'honey'," I said, lowly, keeping my emotions in check. I was the actress, not her, in this play. Psychologists would say that I was an enigma, since I could lock them out so well. I couldn't be cracked, because I wouldn't let them in. Or that I was just fine. Or that I had bipolar disorder. Basically any personality disorder you could think of was named for me. Why? I liked playing with people. It was my favorite game to pass the time. I call it 'Breaking the Mind'.

"Riley, you know that what you did was wrong," Dad said, stepping in.

"And what would that be?" I asked, looking up at him, blank-faced.

"Drinking, for starters," he said, listing them off on a hand, "Driving while intoxicated, not calling to tell us where you were..."

"Oh, that," I said, nodding, "I wouldn't call that wrong."

"Then what would you call that?" he asked, crossing his arms.

I smirked, laughing a little, "Fun."

"Riley," Ann said, seeing that Dad was about to talk in a louder tone of voice. She was trying to be the ref., trying to be the one on both of our sides. She had her own side, and she held Dad's leash. "We only want to help. Your father and I only want the best for you."

"You're being foolish," Daddy-dearest said, uncrossing his arms and stepping towards me to emphasize his point, "You're slacking in school, you're getting in trouble left and right. The therapy isn't even working. You're not being the responsible adult you're supposed to be."

"How am I supposed to learn to be a _responsible adult_ when I don't have a role model?" I asked, sitting up to look at him with a hidden glare.

"What do you mean?" he asked, struck by what I said.

"I have no one to learn from, Dad," I said, "I hardly want to take after someone who married a woman in my generation instead of his own."

"Riley, please," Ann said, but Dad cut in, furious.

"Don't disrespect me, young lady," he commanded. He never knew how to be a father, ever since my mother died.

"Please, Patrick," Ann said, gesturing for him to calm. She turned back to me, putting on the solemn face, again. "Riley, things have been very difficult, lately. You don't seem to want to listen to me, and your father isn't going to be home much, since his job at the plant is getting quite demanding..."

"Get to the point," I said, locking my bright green eyes to her fake blue ones.

"We think it's best that... that you go to Smallville, to live with your cousin, Lex, for a little while," she said. The corner of her mouth twitched. She was trying to cover up a smile. I could see it in her eyes that she was more happy than when she got the account number to Dad's bank account.

"What?" I demanded, standing up, throwing my chair back. It knocked against the wall, making a dent in the reddish-brown painted sheetrock. "You can't send me across the country!"

"Riley Lynn, you will listen to us," he said, his voice hurt, but still strong.

"You're taking me away from my friends! My only friends!" I yelled, slamming my fists down onto the hardwood table, "This is screwed up!"

"Psychiatrists didn't work," Dad snapped back, "Boarding schools just kicked you out... You even went through _boot camp_, and you're still irresponsible and childish! This is the only option you left us with!"

"Actually, I thought boot camp was pretty relaxing and tame for this place," I mumbled, pushing the anger down. Let them do what they want to. At least I'd be away from Evil-Bitch-From-Hell... But she'd be alone with Dad. She'd ruin him.

On second thought... He was never really a Dad to me. Why should I care for someone that I only have blood in common with?

"Firefly..." Ann said, the word sounding uncertain. At once, my eyes shot up, glaring into hers. I leaned over the table, slowly growing closer to her.

"Don't call me that," I growled, "You're not my mother, you whore!"

"Riley!" Dad yelled, grabbing my shoulder and sitting me back down into the chair. I screamed, shoving him away and leaping at Ann with the sudden adrenaline that jumped through my veins. Slamming my shoulder into her, I used an army move that I was taught in boot camp, knocking her from her chair and at the same time, letting me roll to my feet in one quick motion. I straddled her waist, raising a fist and slamming it once into her face, then again, into the same vicinity.

An arm wrapped around my waist, carrying me to the other room. I didn't notice who it was as I struggled to get out of the grasp and to get at the bleeding Ann. She was wide-eyed, lying on the floor, blood dripping from her lower lip and a black and blue rounding the outside of her eye.

"Never call me that! _Never_ call me that!" I screamed, kicking and slamming my fists into her arms of my restrainer, "You'll never be my mother! _Never_! She was so much better than you! So much _better_! You're just a lowly leech, sucking the life from my family!"

A hand clasped over my mouth, but I screamed through it, not even words coming from my head and to my mouth to curse more at Ann. Ann, the evil bitch from hell who tried to be the mask of truth and love and family and my mother. But she wasn't. _She_ wasn't.

- - -

Butterscotch.

Butterscotch lined my pillow as I stared at my ceiling. The ceiling, where I would pass my time watching. Just finding shapes that were interesting enough in the random patterns in the spackle. There were many that most of my friends couldn't see. Maybe I was the only one who could see them. Maybe I was the only one who thought that they were important enough to be remembered.

Especially the half-faced woman with long, flowing hair and a smile over her lips. But she wasn't smiling, today. Not that I could see.

_I'm going away, again_, I thought, as if she could read my mind, _They're sending me away. I'm sorry._

Butterscotch. That was the best smell in the world. So rich and sweet. Better than vanilla, better than sugar cookies. Butterscotch was my mother's scent. It was her signature. She'd leave the lingering smell in my room, just after she tucked me in and said good-night.

Her hair smelled of it the most. Her bright red hair. Every long, wavy strand always seemed to glow in the dark, but not like a neon Budweiser light you'd see in a store window. More like a subtle glow, where you could always tell where she was, even in the dimmest of lights.

I liked to use her perfume, which we had made, together, to spray on my pillow, and remind me that there once was someone out there for me. Just me. To listen to me, to talk to me, to just be around me whenever I needed someone by my side.

Butterscotch. That was her smell. Hers.

Someone, a large producer of perfumes, once asked if he could duplicate it and sell it. My mother politely declined and said, "This is just for me and my Firefly." And she smiled at me, that bright, gentle smile.

Just for us. No one else.

Tomorrow, I'd have to get on that plane. It was a private jet, too. I'd be all alone on it. Well, my luggage would accompany me, too, and of course the piolet. But if you excluded that, I was alone. Totally alone. Dad wouldn't even accompany me to Smallville, to make sure I would get there, safely. He would probably stay because of Ann, who had a nice shiner over her eye, and a puffy bottom lip.

That didn't matter. I didn't want to go with him, anyway. The only person I'd want with me was gone. So, being alone was my only option left.

Maybe Smallville wouldn't be so bad. My cousin, Lex Luthor, would welcome me. I hope. He was always nice to me when we were kids. We hung out all of the time, before his mother died, and then mine. My mother was Lex's father, Lionel's, sister. We grew a bit distant after that. I hadn't talked to him for a good few years.

I rolled over, looking out through the window. I didn't even have time to tell my friends I was leaving. Well, I didn't really have good friends, not ones that would die for me, or take a bullet for me. I never had friends like that. And I probably never will, because I was one of those rich kids. Rich meaning that my mother had the wealth, and my father married into the family. Even though the new name was Wolfe for my mother, Uncle Lionel always wanted to support his little sister, so he gave Dad a job at one of the LuthorCorp. branches in Vermont, where my mother and Dad moved to.

But all of that was the past. I wasn't going to bother with unimportant details. All I knew was that I was going to see Lex, again. He was my second favorite family member, after my mother, of course.

The moon was blocked out by a cloud outside my window that was open just a crack. Just enough to see outside, but not let the morning birds that sat on the window sill fly into my room. Well, my _old_ room.

My radio played in the background, somewhere in the far corner. The five-disc CD-Stereo sat on a corner-shelf, just in the shadows of my tiny night-light. Hey, paranoid people need night-lights, okay? Especially if they're prone to watch scary movies in the dark, alone.

Just a tip: Never watch _Thirteen Ghosts_ without someone to grab onto. Some may think it's just a movie, but others like me think it's scary as hell in an empty mini-theater in their basement. While the wind's blowing. While you don't hear your dad come downstairs to check on you, conveniently at the scariest part of the movie.

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Hoped you like this first chapter! This is my first fanfic ever! Please, R&R!


	2. The Warning

The plane was full, luggage stored somewhere that I couldn't see. The pilot was a woman, and so was the flight attendant. It didn't matter to me. I wouldn't speak to anyone on the flight, anyway. I'd just stare out through the window, wondering what it would be like to jump out of a plane without a parachute.

Sounds fun and exciting. The rush of just standing at the door would be thrilling, the wind flying in and out of the wide exit, the ground below so far away that the roofs were like small, square pieces of paper a young child would cut out for decorating a Christmas tree in a drawing. Then the jump. No helmet, of course, but goggles are a must. Seeing the ground as it grew larger, people's heads coming into view as you plummet down, down, down, until you can even see if someone has a bald spot just at the tip of their head.

SMASH! You hit the ground, and splatter. Quick, painless death, and you'd have fun on the way down.

Now, I'm not a suicidal person. I don't do that whole self-affliction thing. I'm more of a homicidal person, myself. Like the psychiatrist says, "Pain out, not in." That may not be what he meant, but I took it that way. Pain out, not it? Let someone else deal with the pain of torture and misery that I should have? Sure! I don't mind!

Anyway, I was on the plane. Dad and Ann were just outside. I could see them through the window. She was waving, but Dad's hands were in his pockets. Ann took a hold of Dad's arm with one hand, but kept waving to me with the other. She was smiling at me.

That got my blood boiling. A last attempt to get to me, to wound me, emotionally.

Instead of jumping off and pummeling her a few more times, I waved, too. But did a subtle motion as the plane started to roll away to take off. As I smiled, I did a quick scratching of the chin, to seem like I had an itch. Dad looked down, tears in his eyes. I took the moment between just me and Ann to drag my index finger across my throat, the broad smile still on my face and a glare in my eyes

Her perfect teeth dropped away, under a frown. Her hand stopped in mid-air, frozen in half a wave. She got my message.

Then the plane rolled away, leaving Vermont behind and Smallville just ahead.

- - -

"Firefly," a voice whispered, "Firefly..."

"Mom?" I asked, sitting up. Two black streaks of hair that framed my face fell over my eyes. I swept them back, looking around. All around, there was only darkness. The only visible object, which was strangely clear as day, was a white-linen bed I was lying in. I looked down at myself, seeing a dark red long-sleeved silk shirt and a pair of matching pajama pants. I stood, my feet bare on the cold... darkness? It didn't look like I was standing on anything, yet the souls of my feet could feel a cold hard floor. Kind of like the cement of a basement in the winter.

"Firefly," the voice said, again, "Why are you leaving?"

"I'm not!" I said, turning around, looking back and forth. It was my mother. It had to be. "I want to stay!"

"But you're leaving," the voice echoed about my head, "You left."

"They made me!" I gasped, breaking down. The tears fell freely down my face, "Mom, please! Listen to me! I wanted to stay!"

"That's not possible, now," the voice said. She suddenly sounded so sad. But why?

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning, again. A figure walked out. She was a few inches taller than me. The only other differing thing was that she was older. Probably around 32, maybe a few years more. She and I had the same body build, same facial structure, the same eyes, hair, save for the two black streaks in mine. We were almost twins, yet from different generations. The was definitely my mother.

She reached out a hand, fingers trembling as she gently touched her fingertips to my face. I closed my still watering eyes, leaning into her touch. Her hands felt warm, as if she had set them on a heater for a few minutes. She stroked my milky skin, the skin on her hand almost blending into my cheek. "My dear Firefly," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. Yet, it wasn't a tear. It was blood. One single drop of blood that made such a clear path over her skin. "The plane, Firefly," she said, her voice clearer, but still echoing, slightly. She seemed to be in such emotional pain.

"What about it?" I asked. How did she know I was on a plane?

"It's going to crash," she said, her voice breaking. She dropped her hand away, backing a step towards the darkness. I gasped, holding a hand out to her. She was leaving! I couldn't let her go!

"Mom!" I cried, going to step forward, but a wall that seemed to come out of nowhere came up to block my path. "Mom! Come back!"

"Get off the plane," she advised, "Please, Firefly. Get off the plane."

"Mom!" I screamed to her. But the figure was gone. She had disappeared into the black background. I pounded on the invisible wall once, then turned, looking down at the bed sheets. They were suddenly dark blue, traced with wolves. The pillows had wolf images here and there, and the comforter was one large image to match the bed-set.

It was the bed set I had selected for the plane. I was back on the plane, standing there, staring at the sheets.

"What the hell?" I asked, turning back around. The cabin was a creamy white, with some traces of a dull red. I glanced down at myself. I was fully dressed, in the same clothes I had gotten onto the plane with.

Quickly, I went to the window. We were on the ground. But how could we crash, if we were landed? I decided not to take any chances.

After throwing on my coat, I ran to the door. Just as I flung it open, the flight attendant was there, about to knock.

"Oh, Miss Wolfe," she said, smiling, "I was about to come wake you."

"Are we in Smallville, already?" I asked. She shook her head.

"No, Miss," she said, "We needed to land. There were technical difficulties on the plane. The pilot decided that we should switch planes in Illinois, so you wouldn't be too late for your destination."

"Oh," I said, glancing into the room, then back to the flight attendant.

"Your luggage was already transferred to the replacement plane," she said, still smiling, "Everything has been arranged."

"Thank you," I said, on instinct. I was always nice to strangers if they were nice to me, first. I wasn't that cruel of a child, you know.

We made our way to the doors, the bright sun leaking in through the exit. I blinked a few times, then ran my hand through my hair. It was a little messy from my nap. I was glad that we only had a few more states left to go, until I could be in one place, again.

"This way, Miss Wolfe..." the flight attendant said, motioning to the exit. I nodded, taking a glance at the cockpit to see if the pilot was still there. No pilot, but there was a white dot flying very closely towards the ground. It had flashing, red lights on the bottom. What seemed wrong was that this new plane was going quite fast for a landing, and was very close to us. In fact, it was in a direct path towards us. I gasped, it finally getting to me that it was only seconds away.

I looked to the flight attendant, seeing that she was turned around, fishing through a cupboard. She had picked up a container of green liquid. I didn't see the other green jars, since I suddenly snapped into action.

I whipped my hand out, grabbing her arm and throwing her through the plane door. I leaped out, after, landing on my hands and rolling back onto my feet. I slid a couple of inches, landing in some sort of green stuff with broken glass dotting the puddle here and there. Without hesitation, I wrapped my fingers around the flight attendant's ankle, pulling her as fast as I could into a hanger.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, confused and startled my actions.

Just as we got inside, our plane burst into flames as the other hit nose-first into its side. It cut through our plane like it was a soda can on its side, and the second was a knife. A ball of fire leaped out at me, but it seemed to be lined in a green mist that roared as it collided with me, sending me flying backwards and into a plane stored inside.

I fell to the ground, landing with a sick thud. My hands hurt the worst. I looked to them, seeing glass in my palms and the green liquid oozing from what glass that was visible. What was that stuff?

I couldn't contemplate the thought any longer, since my eyes fluttered and then closed.


	3. Questions

My hands throbbed. I could only feel intense heat in them. But suddenly, they were cold. Yet, hot, again. It was a pulse-like feeling of hot and cold, from my fingertips to my wrists. What was that? Why was I feeling like this?

I opened my eyes, but my vision was blurred. There was a patch on my forehead. I immediately imagined the white gauze, like on a hospital show, with a gentle hint of where the cut was from a small line of blood.

I groaned, quietly, as I moved my arms and tried to make a fist with each hand. They were wrapped with white gauze pads, and looked like they were covered with soft casts.

"Riley?" a voice asked, quietly and gently. I snapped my head to the side, trying to see who it was. But everything was still blurry.

"Who's there?" I demanded, my voice hoarse. It was painful to talk.

"It's Lex, your cousin," he said, stepping closer to me. My vision finally started to clear, showing a bald man who had a pretty worried expression over his face. Right away, I could tell that he was trying to cover it up. Not his shiny head, but his emotions. I've suggested a hat or two when we were younger, but he always let everyone see. If my head was bald, I'd wear a wig.

"Lex," I said, relaxing a little, but my arms were still tense, my hands almost in fists, "What happened? Where's the stewardess?"

"What stewardess?" he asked.

"The one I pulled from the plane," I said, clearing my throat for a moment, "I pulled her into the warehouse."

"You were alone," Lex said, sitting down next to me, "The only person they found was you." I watched him. He was telling the truth. Of couse, he had no reason to lie. "Riley, why did the plane land?"

"I don't know," I said, then remembered what the flight attendant said, "There were technical malfunctions. They were switching planes." Lex looked so confused, shaking his head, slowly.

"Nothing wrong was called in to the tower," Lex said.

"What?" I asked, astonished to why they wouldn't call in troubles with the plane. Wasn't that what they were requiered to do?

"The plane wasn't meant to land," he said, "They weren't supposed to make any stops until Metropolis."

"But," I said, confused and unable to get anymore words out. It was so strange.They had to call the tower, to make sure they knew that their plane was there. But if they didn't then the plane was perfectly fine. Why would they make a secret stop?

"Riley," Lex said, "Was there anything strange on the plane? Anything stashed away?"

"I," I said, thinking back, "I think there was this green stuff. It was in a bunch of jars. When I saw the plane coming towards us, the stuwarest was getting one of them." Lex nodded, seeming to realize something, "Lex? What is it?"

"I don't know," he said, "My best theory is that your plane was transporting illegal goods."

"I got it in my hands," I said, holding up one of my mummy-like palms. They were streaked with red, where the cuts were from the glass. Lex's eyes widened for a moment, but then he calmed, looking back to me.

"Don't worry," he said, "The doctors said it wasn't toxic."

"Do I ever worry?" I asked, using a joke to levy the air. Lex smiled, shaking his head.

"No," he said. I grinned a little, too.

- - -

I sat on a plane, looking out through the window. Lex sat on the other side of the private jet, doing the same. He then looked to me, the sound of movement making me turn as well.

"I believe you'll like Smallville," Lex said, "It has many good qualities."

"Like what?" I asked, cocking a brow, "The delicious smells of the fertilizer plant? The vast scenery of corn fields and cow paths?"

"Possibly," he said, smirking at my sarcasm.

"Different place," I said, turning to look back out through the window, "Same things."

"They have a public school," he said. I glanced back at him.

"Really," I said.

"Something that you've never been to."

I shrugged, "That's true."

"Maybe you could make some true friends," he suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," I said, turned back, again, to the window. I didn't argue with him about my friends back home. He knew what it was like to not know if someone was your real friends, or if they wanted to just have publicity within the school. But who knew if everyone in the next high school was the same?

I ran my fingers over my diminished bandages. My cuts were healing good enough, so I didn't need too many dressings for them. My head still had a small bandage over the stitches, just to make sure that if I broke a stitch, blood wouldn't leak everywhere.

Glancing to Lex, again, I asked, "How's Uncle Lionel? I heard he was still in jail."

"I haven't been to visit him, lately," Lex said, his back a little stiff. I shot him an expression that would let any person gather that not visiting your father was a bad thing. Lex, even though he got the full blast, made it seem as if he didn't notice.

"_Mr. Luthor,"_ the piolet said over an intercom, _"We're only five mintures from Metropolis."_

Lex picked up a white phone next to him, and spoke into it, "Thank you, Peter."

"Can I stay in the city?" I asked, putting on my puppy-dog eyes, "I mean, if you left me with a few credit cards, a building to live in, which is conveniately near a few top clubs, I'll be set to live on my own. I _am_ almost 18, you know. I should learn to live without anyone to tell me what to do. Experience the world. Meet new people. Be my own person..."

He just turned to me and gave a small, simple, humored smile alone with a just as simple answer. "No."

- - -

The scenery was all green. And I mean _everything_. Green, cheery and quite dull. There was some brown of dirt roads, and occasionally black-top, or I should say _gray_-top, that had to have been laid down twenty years ago, because there were cracks and bumps that were so big that the road seemed like it was from the middle-ages.

"Oh, I've fallen in love with this place, already..." I said, just as Lex hit a bump with his Porsche. I bounced a little, hearing Lex laugh.

"Don't worry," he said, "Not all roads are like this. This one's just a short-cut."

"Remind me to not drive on this one when we get to your house," I said, trying not to tense as we hit another bump at speeds that were a little too excessive for this type of road.

"Who says you get a car?" Lex asked. I looked up at him, shocked and upset.

"What?" I demanded, "You're going to make me walk to school?"

"Of course not," he said, glancing to me. He added, with quite the sarcastic smile, "You'll take the bus."

"_What_?!" I almost yelled in his ear. I could see his smile grow from my attitude, "I can't rise a _bus_! I've _never_ ridden a bus! And I'd like to keep the record going, if you don't mind!"

Lex gave me a quizzical look, "What happened to being your own person?"

"I meant with a car!" I said, crossing my arms and shrinking into my seat.

_That's it_, I thought, _I'm so not staying here_.


	4. Moving In

As we pulled into the driveway of the new house I was to live in, I leaned a little closer to the window to see the building better. It was made of all stone, with vines and such lining it along windows and balconies. It kind of reminded me of a castle. You know, the ones like is fairy-tails.

"It's a little small," I said, sarcastically, just as the car stopped and I opened the door to get out. Lex had gotten out of his side, and leaned on the roof of the car.

"You'll fit," he said, then closed his door, heading to the back of the Porsche. In the trunk, there were only a few bags of mine. The rest were already there, probably up in my new room.

"Which wing is mine?" I asked as I walked to the back as well, picking up a bag from the trunk and crossing my purse strap over my shoulders.

"The West Wing," he said, "Your room is on the third floor with an attached bathroom. The kitchen is on the second, and the den is on the bottom."

"Wow," I said, "My own house." I rolled my eyes. It was no different than back in Vermont. I had my own section of the house where I had my parties, slept and ate. I glanced to Lex, wondering if he would let me back a party. A kind of 'Welcome to the Neighborhood' bash. Nah. I wouldn't break out the booze, just yet. I had more respect for his place than my own house. I was a guest, after all.

We pulled the last of my things from the trunk and went through the front door to the foyer. It was bigger than what the outside would tell. The ceiling was nice, when you pulled out a telescope to see it. Everything had an elegant feel to it. Like I was royalty and not just some punk. But of course, this was the Luthor life. The same as my own. Maybe they had a little more money, but oh well.

"I have to run to the plant," Lex said, setting down my bags and adjusting his blazer, "I left during a bad time, so there are a few things that need straightening out."

Right away, I felt at home. I just barely got under the ceiling, and the only person who is worth anything to me has to run. _Of course_, I thought, but I didn't say that. "Okay. Catch you later."

I hated being left, just standing there, watching as someone just turned and walked away. So, I did the walking, instead. After grabbing an important bag, I made my way up the stairs and towards the next floor. I didn't turn back to look at Lex. The feeling was there that he was watching me. The feeling of his eyes staring into my back made me itch and my spine burn. He felt bad for leaving so soon, and not being there to help me adjust to the new life. That was okay. I was left alone all of the time, anyway.

- - -

The halls liked to turn suddenly, all of the time. It made exploring exciting. I was a snoopy-kind of person. My nose was always sniffing around, trying to figure out what was going on. That is, if I cared. All I wanted to know about this place was where everything was. I hated being lost in a house. But I've been lucky that search-parties never had to have been called for me. Maybe it was a good sense of direction. I'd get that from my mother.

A flash of a movie from Steven King made me wince. Suddenly, I was expecting a set of twins to be standing around every corner.

Maybe exploring wasn't that good of an idea, for right then. Turning, I went to hurry away, back to where I had come from.

_Damn movies!_ I scolded myself. _No more horror flicks!_

Turning around a corner, I ran my hand along the wall, trying to make a scratching sound to ease my mind. There was this habit of having some sort of noise to get my mind off from fears. In this case, it wasn't working.

I dug my fingernails harder into the paint, trying to make the sound louder. No such luck. My feet were moving faster, almost at a jog as I turned to glance behind me. There was such a bad feeling that something was there that it made my skin crawl and my spine feel like it was made of ice.

_Bam_! I slammed into what felt like a brick wall. After letting out a small cry of fright, I landed onto my backside. My eyes were squeezed shut, my head suddenly throbbing.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked. I peaked one eye open, glancing out to see who it was. A guy, who looked about my age, was knelt down next to me, a caring hand out and a fearful look over her blue-green eyes. The first thought through my head was: _Whoa... He really needs a hair-cut..._ But then I snapped myself out of that state of mind.

"Who are you?" I demanded, a little ruffled up from someone seeing my clumsiness. He held out a hand, going to help me stand up.

"Clark Kent," he said.

"Nice to meet you," I said, dully, standing up on my own. My hands throbbed a little, slightly numb under the bandages.

There was a short pause of silence. I was busing myself with straightening my clothes and trying to regain my dignity. I glanced up at him, noticing that he was extremely tall. The plaid was a dead give-away that he lived off the land. His clothes looked neat enough, but they still seemed like they were from some department store. Though, he did have a face and body like a model.

"What's a farm-boy like you doing in a mansion such as this?" I asked, starting to walk down the hallway. He followed me after a beat, his large boots clomping on the floor.

"I'm a friend of Lex's," he said, only a step behind. That feeling of being watched was burning into my skull.

"That's a little strange," I said, running my hand through my hair to straighten it.

"Why's that?" he asked, sounding a little confused. I turned, suddenly, facing him. He stopped short, standing quite close to me. I had to crane my neck to look into his eyes. His black hair hung down over one of them. He really needed a hair-cut.

"How many farm-boys do you know who are friends with a man who is so rich, he could buy Metropolis five times over?" I asked, cocking a brow at him and tilting my head. He actually thought about it, just under his ever-present confused state.

"Well..." I turned on a heal, heading off down the hall, again. It took him a moment, but then he jogged to catch up with me. "I didn't catch your name," he said.

"My name's not the type to me caught," I said.

"Then what am I supposed to call you?" he asked, slowing next to me. I shrugged.

"Doll, Sweety," I rambled on, giving sarcastic suggestions, "Babe, Kitten... Be creative." I stopped, again, turning to push a finger into his chest. He stopped quick, again, a surprised look over her features, the same as before, "Anything but Little Lady. It makes me sound like I'm six."

"What about Froo-Froo?" he asked, giving a small smile. I rolled my eyes, turning to walk away. This time he didn't follow. "Well, it's either that or your real name."

Pausing in mid-step, I cringed. Clever bastard.

"I'm not about to be called _Froo-Froo_," I said, glancing back at him, but not turning fully around, "The name's Riley Wolfe."

He closed the distance between us, holding out a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Riley." I took his hand, giving a subtle shake.

"And you, Clark." I watched a smile spread over his lips. He knew he had won the battle. That so wasn't fare. Yet, I didn't feel that upset about it. Usually I would go into an all-out war, cold shoulders and everything. But, there was something about him. The way he smiled with all of his white teeth. The way his eyes squinted slightly, looking completely relaxed and joyful. Mix it together and throw in his hot features, and he's got the best mixture for charming the girls. He certainly had me under his spell.

Until I realized it.

I broke my hand away, quickly, taking a few steps back. I felt like I had been hypnotized. His smile faded, the confused and concerned look back.

"Uh," I said, trying to find some words. But I couldn't. For the first time... well, second, actually... I couldn't speak. He had caught me off-guard, leaving his mark inside my thoughts. My hands flashed with heat, again, making me twitch. I looked down at my right hand, balling it up and then stretching it back out, hoping to make the feeling go away.

"I'm sorry," Clark said, his voice full of guilt. He made it sound like he had just broken my hand, "I sometimes don't know my own strength."

"No," I said, shaking my head, "It wasn't you."

"What happened?" he asked, gesturing to my white dressings.

"Birth defect," I said, holding up a hand, "I just had surgery to separate my fingers." He looked shocked. I smiled, letting him know I was kidding. "A small accident. Just some vengeful glass from a jar."

"Some mean jar," he commented.

"Yeah," I said. I noticed that one of the bandages was leaking a red liquid from the palm of my right hand. I pressed my left hand to it, holding it there, "Oh, that's not good." I looked up at Clark, jutting my head to the back of me. "You mind helping me with this?"

"Sure," he said, leading me down the hallway.

- - -

He knew this place better than I thought he did. It only took a minute or two to make it to my room and into the bathroom. I felt a little resistant to let him into my room, since I had a thing about letting someone into my personal space. But I didn't have anything really set up, yet, so I figured that it wouldn't matter. Though, I was a little perplexed of how he knew where my room was. I decided to ask him later.

"Here, sit down," he said, turning to a free-standing cupboard across from the sink. Instead of sitting on the toilet, like he had motioned to, I pushed myself up onto the sink's edge. I glanced down at my hand, which rested on my lap. Blood was seeping faster than I thought, the bandage a crimson color over all of my palm.

Leaning back against the mirror, I relaxed a little. My eyes couldn't help but trail over his nicely shaped shoulders and down his spine until I got to his buttocks. His jeans were slightly tight, the way a perfect pair of jeans would fit a guy. I grinned, quite the dirty thoughts coming to mind. My hands felt strangely hot, again.

He turned, my eyes snapping up from... _that_ area and back to his face. There was a small dread in my stomach that he knew what I was looking at. Probably because of his hesitation after turning. Instinct told me that it was best to play it cool.

"Okay, then," I said, smiling, "Let's play doctor." He went to reach out for my hand, but then paused in mid-air. I couldn't help but giggle at the idea. His cheeks had a tinge of red to them as he took my hand and started to unwrap the bandage from it. His hands felt kind of soft on my skin for a farmer.

I didn't watch him tend to my hand, but instead, I watched his face. He seemed to be concentrating rather hard on not looking up at me, but making sure that my hand was okay. It wasn't his fault I was bleeding.

"How do you like Smallville, so far?" he asked. Small-talk. He was nervous about something, and I had a pretty good guess what.

"Bright... cheery... green... populated by cows and corn..." I said, then sighed, sarcastically, "A dream come true."

"It's really not all that bad, here," he said, turning my hand a little to get a better look at the cut across my palm. It wasn't bleeding that much, anymore. Clark put a gauze on it, turning to rip open a bag that contained some bandages to wrap my hand in. "Once you get past that there's nothing in sight for a ten-mile radius," he said. He smiled up at me, showing that he was joking. I didn't think that he was that far off.

"What's the most fun thing you've done here?" I asked. He paused, thinking for a moment.

"Like what?" he asked, hesitating to tell me anything.

"How are the parties?" I asked, "It can't be that hard to get something to drink around here, right?" He looked shocked. Oh, great. He was against under-aged drinking.

"I wouldn't know," he confessed. I gave him my own shocked look.

"What?" I demanded, surprised at what he said, "You've _never_ had a drink?"

"Well, I have," he said, quickly, then shrugged, concentrating on my hand, again, "I just didn't really take to it." He finished the wrapping, but then seemed to me looking for something. He checked next to me, then glanced behind him to the shelves.

"Okay, Mr. Kent," I said, staying on subject, "We're having a party, and you're going to get so smashed that you're not even going to remember your first time being drunk." He looked square at me, and sighed, rolling his eyes. He didn't believe me. Too bad, because I was telling the truth.

He took my left hand, putting it over the bandage, "Here, hold this." He turned around, rummaging through the shelves.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, glancing around in curiosity.

"Some tape for the bandage," he said, moving objects around. He bent down, opening the cupboard under the shelves. My mind slowed for a moment, seeing his rear-end, again. But he stood at once, closing the cupboard and turning to face me. To act like I hadn't been staring, again, I opened the cupboard behind me, trying to turn to see in. Of course, it was kind of hard to since I didn't have a neck like an owl.

"Is it in here?" I asked, leaning to the side for him to investigate.

"Yeah," he said, "Found it." He reached past me, up to the highest shelf, pulling a roll down. That instant, I could really smell his cologne. It was subtle, but there. It kind of mixed with the scent of fabric softener from his shirt. I couldn't help but let my eyes flutter a little as I took in a deep breath.

Snapping back into reality, I felt his waist in between my knees. Right then, I could have just grabbed him and had my way with him on the bathroom floor. That is, if I hadn't weirded him out from staring and smelling him.

"Uh," he paused, his eyes a little wider than they should have been. My smile was half in a grin and my eyes were lazily staring back to his. He tried to seem like he didn't notice my look as he put tape over the edge of the dressing and pressed it down to make sure it stuck.

Immediately, he moved back a couple of steps, his face red and looking like he was about to run away from embarrassment. I jumped down from the sink, acting as if I hadn't just given away that I was hot for him.

I patted him on the chest, my face normal and smiling, "Thanks." I stepped out, absentmindedly stroking the bandage where he had last touched it. Clark was left inside the bathroom, stunned and confused.

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Thanks for all of the great reviews, guys! And in responce to Barbas's question, Riley is 17 (says in Chap. 1) and Lex is whatever age he is while Lionel's in jail.

More chapters coming, soon!

Thanks for the help, Phoenix Fangor! Fighting Typo-Demons isn't one of my strongest abilities! I'll make sure to re-check the spelling in the next chapter!


	5. No Coincidences

Whoosh!

A tree flew past just at my left elbow.

Whoosh!

Another by my right. Even closer than the last. A piece of a branch even slapped me in the visor. It didn't slow me down a bit.

The engine of the 4-wheeler roared as I flew past trees and bushes along a self-made trail in some large woods. The trees were huge. Thick enough to where if I smashed into one, I wouldn't think that I would walk away. Especially at the speeds I was going.

My hands were ungloved and finally unbandeged. Sure, there were a few slightly visible scars here and there, and one really visible one that sliced across my right palm. But, hey, I was bandage-free! I had to celebrate.

Crash!

I flew out of the tree-line's end, a large hill letting my momentum grow as I hit the gas, flying like there was no tomorrow. A huge grin was plastered all over my face, my adrenaline pumping from the feeling that I could just open my arms and fly into the air like a plane.

Too bad there was a rock just feet before me.

My left tire slammed into the foot-high stone, creating a loud bang that many would recognize as a blown tire. The back of the 4-wheeler spun around to the left, then started into a roll. I didn't even have time to cry out as I flew off, hitting the ground with one big 'oof!' and rolling until I finally came to a skidding stop.

I laid on the ground for a moment, my arm bent behind my back and one of my legs feeling like a stick was rammed through it. My head throbbed, but was fine under the full-faced helmet. Yet, my vision still blurred and turned to darkness.

But I wasn't unconscious. I could still feel something. No, it was some_one_. There, to my right, only inches away. My body, instead of feeling the ground under me and the pain in my arm and leg, itfelt like I was standing.

Slowly, a feeling of pressure on my back made me started to shake in fear and confusion.

"Firefly," that loving voice spoke with that familiar echo, "Firefly..."

"Mom?" I gasped, sitting up. I expected to see green grass and a 4-wheeler with a popped tire all through a shaded visor of a helmet. But, I was staring at different shades of blue and wolves that lined the bottom of my walls. They were casted like shadows, only with depth and where in not only black, but white and many shades of grey.

Stuffed animals sat on shelves and the floor. Posters were put up, including the actor, Orlando Bloom, and images of wolves and my own special drawings.

I was in my own room. But, wait, I was out in a field! The pain that still hovered in my arm and leg were proof of it! I even felt the burning of the rolling and skidding on the ground!

Checking the clock, I saw that it was around noon. I couldn't rely on my windows, since they were covered with thick shades and curtains. Fighting with the sheets that were wrapped around my waist and legs, I pushed them off, then stood. As the switch to the lights was flicked on, a stream of a chain of Christmas-like bulbs automatically lit, lighting my room with a soft glow. It was a special treat by Lex. He knew I hated those simple, dull one-light bulbs that sat just in the center of the ceiling. So, he set this up for me as a welcoming present as my room was decorated.

I made my way past a pile of dirty clothes and into my bathroom. I checked my face, sweat in droplets lining over my forehead and neck. I knew who it was, but why I had dreamt it, I couldn't say. It was the second time I was greeted by her in my dreams. Was it another warning? But I was in my room, this time. Not on a 4-wheeler or even outside. In my room. That's all. I wasn't even planning on riding a 4-wheeler anytime soon.

Maybe, this time, it was just a random thing. Nothing special at all.

"Okay, gross and sweaty for nothing," I sighed, "Great start to my day."

- - -

After a good, hot shower, I dressed in a nice pair of short-shorts with a summer tank-top. It was dark green, and the shorts were black cargo with dark green and dark brown patters there were similar to the design of camouflage. I stuffed the large pockets, which started by the string-tie and ended at the hem of the legs, with my cell-phone, a pair of sunglasses with a brown tint and silver top-half-frames and a black-leather watch.

I put my hair up into a messy-bun, but let the two black streaks that framed my face fall free. There was some basic make-up that I put on, like foundation and come natural-colors for my eyes.

Taking a last took in the mirror, I frowned at the sight of my light-brown, dust-like freckles. They were more present during the summer than any other time. And for some reason, no amount of make-up could cover them up. They were basically the only physical feature I got from Dad. I hoped that I would grow out of them.

I walked out of my bathroom, pulling on a pair of white socks and black boots that were similar to the combat-style. After fixing my shirt, and brushing off my shorts, I made my way out into the hallway, closing my door after me.

Deciding to check to see if Lex was still home, I ventured to his office. The double-doors were already open, so I invited myself in.

"Lex?" I asked, my boots clomping softly on the hard wood of the floor.

"Up here," he called from above.

"Where?" I said to myself, looking up. A balcony was set over my head, stairs leading up on either side. It was kind of pretty, with the polished wood and the bookcases Lex seemed to be rummaging through. He came to the edge of the railing, looking down at me with a book in hand.

"About time you had risen from your tomb," he said, smirking. He came around to the right of the staircase, emerging with two books. He set them on his glass desk, then went around to sit in his comfy-looking chair.

"Oh, did you miss me?" I cooed, backing up a couple of steps to lean on a leather couch set around a free-standing plasma screen and a couple of other pieces of matching furniture.

"I'll admit that I was a bit worried that you had packed back up and flown the coop," he said, opening a book and giving me a quick glance.

I couldn't help a laugh, "Where would I go? I mean, the only other place is back to where I came from. And like they would let me back in."

"That's only one reason," he said, flipping a page, then pulling the other book over to him to open up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, standing up straighter and crossing my arms.

"I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of your time away from home," he said, then looked up at me with that smirk, again.

"So?" I asked. I could feel my face growing a little warm from embarrassment.

"Are you heading to Clark's today, too?" he asked, leaning his arms onto the books. He had a very interested look in his eyes.

"You're nosey," I said. It was a feeble attempt to get him off topic. It failed.

"So, you are," he said, then stood, walking past me and to a bookcase on this floor. He went through a couple, trailing his finger over the spines. "You two have been spending a lot of time together ever since you've come here."

"Actually, I've decided to waist some time with _me_," I said, trying not to comment of the last part, "What's there to do around here?"

"There's the pool," he said, going back to his seat and setting down a third book.

"Eh. Water, not my thing," I said, scruntching my nose, "I'm more of a danger-loving kind of gal."

"There's a good amount of acres which make up the back yard. Maybe you'll like a ride on a 4-wheeler..." The pain in my leg came back at full-blast, making my knee buckle. Quickly, I righted myself by grabbing the back of the couch with a hand and standing upright, again. 4-wheeler? Outside? The crash. That was what my mother was telling me about.

"Are you alright?" Lex asked, watching me with a hint of worry.

"Oh, um, yeah," I said, a little shaky, "I'm fine. It's just that I, um, hit my knee on my bed-post a little earlier. It hurt like hell." Glancing to the door, I turned back to Lex. "I think I'll just take a walk around town. Gotta get familiar to the place, right?"

"And not just Clark's barn?" he asked. I rolled my eyes, pushing off from the couch and heading towards the double-doors.

"Catch you later," I said, reaching the doorway.

"Come back by three," he called after. I paused and turned to look at him.

"Why?" I asked. It was kind of strange to have a time-limit come from Lex. Of course, there wouldn't be one without a good reason.

"School-shopping," he said. He made it sound not-so-painful. Kind of like a romp through the daisies, instead of sharp thorns.

"Ack!" I said, clutching my chest, "I think I've been shot!" I rolled out through the doorway and into the hall. Dramatically, I pulled myself out of sight, leaving Lex with a smile for the day.

- - -

The trees were thick, but I was left enough room to travel the path that I had seen in my dream. I glanced behind me, checking to see if I was followed. Old habit. Just out of paranoia, really.

As I turned back, a branch swatted me just on my forehead. I bent back a little, reaching out to grab it. This certain branch was familair to me. Carefully, I broke off a piece and stuffed it into my pocket. Evidence that I wasn't insane. But it wasn't the right confirmation I was looking for.

Traveling further, I made my way out through the tree-line and into a clearing. It was bright out, the sun glaring down on me. I pulled my sunglasses from my pocket and placed them over my eyes. It helped a lot.

I only had to walk a few yard until I found what I was looking for. There it was. A matching gray color and a little dirty with mud. The rock that popped the tire of the 4-wheeler I had been riding in my dream. But how did I know it was there? I had never been this far out into these woods. I had never been to that field. It had to be a coincidence.

But everything was the same. The brightness of the sun, the stone that was about a foot in diameter, and the green grass. The heat even felt the same.

"Whoa," I said, quietly, looking up and around. A small, gentle smile spread to one corner of my mouth as I looked back down to the ground, back at the stone. Slowly, I whispered, "Thanks, Mom."


	6. Meet the Kents

The wind was starting to blow as I walked through the rest of the field. The grass rippled like waves, which was actually really pretty. It made me feel like I wanted to run through it and dive into the bright green-colored water.

Across the way, a dirt road twisted between each field. It was empty, not even any dust in the air to signal that a car had gone by moments before.

A thought crossed my mind that, if I had crashed, would someone have found me? Or would I have rotted out on the field of waves until some farmer came across my corpse?

Farmer... Hmm, maybe it was time to see one. I wanted to tell someone about my mother coming to me, again, and how she saved my life for the second time. I could tell Lex, but then he'd think I was insane. The only other close person I knew in Smallville was Clark Kent. He seemed like the perfect fit. I mean, sure, Lex was right. I had been hanging out with Clark a lot. The motive? He was hot, sexy, smart, funny, and well, anything else I can't name that's related to those words. Yup, I was crushing on him. But I would only admit that to myself.

- - -

It took forever to get to his farm. Walking was a bitch. But, I had gotten used to it back home. It was the only way to get around when I was grounded from my car.

"Thanks, Lex," I muttered, remembering that he wasn't going to let me have a car to get to and from school. But I was definitely not taking that bus. I'd rather walk all of the way to town.

The bright yellow house with white shutters came into sight, a red barn behind it. Coming upon the driveway, I ran my hand over the white-picket fence lining the front yard. Their mailbox was open, the red flag up, signaling for the mailman to take whatever was inside. Curiosity overcame me as I took a peek inside. It was a white envelope that had the name _Anna Baker_ in written print. I would have seen the address, too, if I didn't hear some door in the distance open. I stood up, straight, closing the mailbox's lid and stepping around it.

Clark walked around the porch, glancing down at his feet as he skipped down the steps. His eyes caught on me as I leaned against the end of the fence, watching him as he came closer. His white t-shirt was a little tight, signaling that he had grown out of it. I didn't mind. He had his regular dark blue jeans on, that were slightly faded over the legs. His ever-present farm-boots kicked up a little bit of dust as he stopped before me.

"Hey, Riley," Clark said, smiling.

"Howdy," I said, crossing one leg over the other to become a little more comfortable. I crossed my arms, cocking a brow at him. "So, what's the plan, today? Working on the farm? Doing chores? The usual non-fun-ness?"

"Actually, I've got most of my chores done, already," he said, "I just have to bail some hay."

"And after that, what are you planning to do?" I asked, leaning towards him a little and turning an ear to him, like I was expecting a specific answer.

"What exactly are you implying?" he countered, tilting his head to the side. He was trying to hide a smile.

"That you're going to go to town with me," I said, pushing myself up from the fence, "After you bail some hay, of course."

"I don't know if Mom will let me," he said, glancing to the front door, "I think I might be secretly grounded from yesterday's escapades..."

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Oh, what a fun day yesterday was. After convincing Clark to only do what was really needed, like feeding the cows, we ran off to town. When we got there, we went everywhere, going into stores, buying junk-food by the pounds, renting about six movies, then finally going back to my house to watch them.

After getting all chalked up on sugar and sweet, we watched about half of the movies. The one I really remembered was "Life as a House" with Hayden Christianson. That shower scene was hilarious!

There were card games, too. Like War and Spit, and a couple others that I couldn't remember the name to. Oh, and Goldfish. I won three times. I was right in the middle of convincing Clark to join me in a strip-poker game, when Mrs. Kent called up. I gave the phone to Clark, who had cringed to receive it. You see, we left around noon that day, and it was about nine at night when she called. We had left when neither of his parents were home, and Clark hadn't checked in for the length of time he was gone.

He told me, right before he left, that he was probably grounded for the rest of his life. Poor guy. It turned out that he needed to fix the tractor while they were gone, along with building the rest of the fence for the cows in the new field. Mr. Kent had let them out through the gate, failing to notice the unfinished fence. Clark said it took two hours to rally up all of the cows.

"C'mon, Clark," I whined, trying to put on my most pitiful face, counting the puppy-dog eyes, "Don't you want to watch the rest of the movies? We still have Gobstoppers and Gummy-worms left over. I know how you love Gummy-worms."

He took in a breath through his teeth, looking like he was making a life-or-death decision, "I really want to, but..."

"Then it settled!" I said, cutting him off on purpose, "Let's go!" I grabbed his hand, going to pull him around the fence towards the direction from where I came. I was stopped, Clark not moving to follow. His hand slipped from mine as I sluggishly turned around to face him.

"Riley, I can't," he said, "As much as I want to hang out, I need to be careful. I'll be strung up by my feet if I leave without even so much as a notice, again."

"That's not the kind of attitude I was looking for," I said, frowning.

"Sorry," he said. An idea seemed to dawn on him as he glanced behind himself, "Hey, how about hanging out here?"

"What?" I asked, scrunching my nose.

"Come on," he said, rolling his eyes, "It's not all that bad on a farm. After you get over the smell, it's kind of nice."

"The smell doesn't bother me," I said, "The problem is that I didn't bring the movies with me. Or the junk food. Two essential items for hanging out."

"I think we'll be able to have fun without them, just this once." He jutted his head towards the barn, proceeding towards the large door that was open just enough to fit a person through with room to spare. "You coming?"

"But, Clark!" I whined, purposefully being a pain-in-the-ass, "Don't make me walk, anymore! I walked all of the way from home!" I started to act pathetic, dragging my feet behind myself and letting my shoulders slouch down. Clark turned, looking back towards me. He laughed at the sight of my Egore-impression, taking pity on me. Coming back over to me, he lifted me up and flipped me over his left shoulder. "Wah!" I cried out, surprised that he would pick me up so easily. He made it seem like I was just a rag-doll.

"Better?" he asked, walking towards the barn. I laughed loudly, grabbing on the back of his shirt to try and steady myself as he walked down the driveway and in through the barn door.

"Put me down!" I laughed, "I've changed my mind! I think I can walk, now!"

"Are you sure?" he teased, making his way through the barn.

"I think she's sure," a male voice said. Clark stopped in his tracks, his shoulder digging into my stomach. Without warning, I was flipped from his shoulder and placed onto my feet. I staggered for a moment, trying to regain my balance from the quick movement.

Turning around, I noticed Mr. Kent standing with a rag in his hand and the tractor up on blocks. From the looks of things, he was changing a front tire.

"Dad," Clark said, surprised to see his father inside the barn. There was a confused and disappointed look over Mr. Kent's features. "I forgot you were in here."

"Obviously," Mr. Kent said, throwing the rag onto a nearby toolbox.

"I don't think we've met, yet," I said, stepping forward to shake his hand, showing him a warm smile, "Hi, Mr. Kent, I'm Riley Wolfe."

"Hello, Riley," Mr. Kent said, his voice slightly cold. He shook my hand, briefly, then let it go to pick up a wrench. I guessed that introductions weren't good for the moment. He made his way over to the tractor, kneeling down to the popped wheel.

"Dad, I'm sor..." Clark went to say, but the sound of Mrs. Kent's voice called from the house.

"Boys! Lunch is ready!" Mr. Kent stood back up, leaving the wrench by the wheel. He seemed really cold. Like he had seen me kick a puppy or something, and now hated me for it.

"Um, Riley," Clark said, turning to me, "You want to stay for lunch?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said.

Mrs. Kent entered the barn, looking around inside, "Clark? Jonathan? Oh, I was wondering if you were in here." She came over to us, smiling, "I was afraid you both had left, since you didn't come running into the house for food." She smiled at me, kindly. Mrs. Kent was a lot warmer to me than her husband. "Oh, hello," she said, "I didn't know we had company."

"Oh, Mom, this is Riley Wolfe," he said, introducing us. Mrs. Kent shook my hand, nodding.

"It's nice to meet you," she said.

I nodded back, "You, too."

"She just moved here," Clark added.

"Really?" she asked, interested in me. It took me a little off-guard, since her reaction to meeting me was totally different from her husband's. "Where are you staying?"

"With my cousin, Lex Luthor," I said, "It's really nice here, in Smallville. It's a lot like Vermont."

"You came from all that way?" she asked, amazed, "That must have been some flight."

"Yeah," I said, smiling inwardly at a private joke, "A real killer."

"Please, come have lunch with us," Mrs. Kent asked, "It would be nice to get to know you."

"Um, sure," I said, slowly, glancing at Clark. He smiled, looking a bit worried. Probably because of his father's attitude. I just hoped that he didn't tell his wife about the way we had entered the barn.

- - -

I had only been inside the Kent's home once before, when Clark and I went out on the junk-food and movies adventure. That was only for a few minutes, while he was trying to find the keys to the truck. This time, however, I would be staying for a considerable amount of time. And with his parents present.

"I hope you like hot-dogs and macaroni-salad," Mrs. Kent said, pulling out an extra plate, some silverware and a cup. I glanced at the large bowl that was full of some sort of multi-colored macaroni pieces that looked like they were each twisted into spirals. It looked like the seasoning that was used was related to thin, clear grease.

"I love it," I said. Well, I really didn't, but it would be kind of rude to just come out and say, "Sorry, but I think that stuff tastes like what your cows smell like."

I watched as Mrs. Kent started to set a place for me. "Um, do you have a place for me to wash my hands? I've been wandering through the woods all morning, and I think I've gotten sap all over myself."

"Oh, sure," she smiled, leading me over to the sink.

"Thank you," I said. I turned the faucet on, wetting my hands a little. While I was rubbing some stickiness from my left palm, I glanced up through the window. To tell the truth, I wasn't really that good with other families. I always had to remind myself to be proper and not make a total ass out of myself. No slouching, no swearing, no chewing with your mouth open... There were so many to remember!

And to add that on top of it all, it was _Clark's_ family. If I didn't make a good impression on them, then they might reprimand Clark from hanging out with me. I felt like I was being crush in all directions. Kind of like being in too deep of water, and the pressure from it starts to squeeze you to death.

I really hated these situations.

My mind was so gone that I didn't notice that I didn't reach out far enough to fully grab the soap. My eyes hot wide-open as I went to snatch it up in mid-air. But I missed. It was going to crash into the sink, and make a huge racket. They were going to think that I was some stupid, klutzy girl that can't even handle a bottle of soap, let alone a friendship with their son.

I winced, waiting for the sound of Clark's patents' respect for me shattering. That loud thud that would turn everything inside-out.

Nothing. Not a sound came to my ears.

I peaked through one eye, seeing the bottle of soap. What I saw made me gasp. The bottle was in mid-air, stopped as if movement had been deprived from it, completely. Frozen in mid-fall, in about the same spot as where I had just barely missed it from my failed attempt to grab it.

"No way," I whispered.

"Riley?" Clark asked, "You okay?"

Quickly, I reached out, snatching the bottle and placing it back onto the sink. I turned around, smiling.

"Sure," I said, shrugging, "I'm perfect."

"Okay, well, lunch's ready," he said. I glanced to Mrs. Kent who had just set down a napkin next to my plate. Mr. Kent was just coming downstairs, his shirt changed from the greasy one that he had been wearing out in the barn.

"Great," I said. My plastered smile was completely fake. What I was really thinking was, _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!_

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I hope you guys like this chapter! I just needed to put Riley's powers in there, somewhere. Please, tell me what you think!


	7. True Friend

The bright light outside felt very welcoming as I stepped out of the Kent home and into the dirt driveway. Clark was just behind, Mrs. Kent trailing at his heals.

"It was nice meeting you, Riley," Mrs. Kent said.

"You, too, Mrs. Kent," I smiled and waved. She smiled back, then turned, heading back inside, where her husband still was. After making sure that the front door was empty, I looked up at Clark, who was standing with me in the driveway. My smile was gone, replaced with worry. "Um, Clark, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," he said. He led me to the barn, but this time, I walked there by myself. I wasn't really up for a piggy-back ride, again.

Entering though the large door, we made our way up the stairs and into the loft. I sat on the large, red couch, putting my head in my hands.

"Riley, what's wrong?" Clark asked, sitting down next to me. I edged away a little, scared to have him too close to me. Looking up into his eyes, I wondered if he would think of me as a freak. Would he stand and leave me alone on the couch? Would he say that we had no more friendship, because I wasn't normal? That I wasn't like everyone else?

But this was Clark! He was the kindest, gentlest guy in Smallville. Well, I didn't really have anyone to compare him to within the town, but I was sure he was if I put him up against most of the guys I've seen in Vermont. This was Clark Kent, the one who seemed to not care how he is, as long as you are okay. The one who cares for others more than himself.

"Clark," I paused, reluctant to tell him. But I had to. I had to tell someone. I had to know if this was just me or it was the Kent home. I just _had_ to know. "Clark, I... I saw something... strange in your house."

He fidgeted a little, shifting on the couch cushion, "Like what?"

"When I was at the sink," I said, trying to word my thoughts just right to where I didn't come out as a freak. "Well, have you ever experienced something... weird? I mean, I think I did, when I was washing my hands."

"What happened?" he asked, his tone cautious and uncertain. He seemed to be edging away millimeter by millimeter.

"I have to know," I said, looking down at the floor. My heartbeat raced, the lub-dub in my chest banging against my rib cage. It was almost like my heart wanted to jump out between my ribs and take off at a high-speed sprint. But it was my words that did, "Is your house... I mean, if it isn't, then that must mean that I'm... I don't know where it came from! Please, you have to understand, I wasn't born with this. I don't even want it!"

"Riley, calm down," Clark said. He tried to gently pull me into a hug, but I whipped back, springing to my feet. In that quick movement, a pile of tall books were knocked over by my elbow. On instinct, I turned, reaching out to grab them.

Everything was in sudden slow-motion. The books fell, spreading out through the air like a single wing on a bird about to fly. They each slowed even more, until they stopped, completely. I gasped, falling backwards onto the couch. I pushed myself further from the books which hung individually in the air. My back rammed into Clark, creating a pain just below my shoulder blades.

"That! That's what happened!" I gasped, fear reaching every cell inside my mind. My skin was prickled, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Turning to face Clark, he had his eyes glued to the books. Slowly, he looked to me, his face confused, surprised, but thankfully not disgusted. He didn't seemed afraid, either.

"How did you..." he tried to finish, but he was at a loss for words.

"I don't know!" I said, looking him square in the eyes, "Please, Clark. Don't tell anyone. Please, you have to promise me!"

"Riley-" he said, still trying to find something to say. His eyes traveled back to the books, still wide and unblinking. I cupped my hands on either side of his face, turning him back to me.

"Promise," I pleaded.

"I... I promise," he said. We sat like that for I don't know how long. Neither of us knew what to do, next. The only thing that distracted me from his eyes was a tear that traced down my cheek, making a path threw my freckles. Slowly, he reached up, taking his thumb and wiping away any evidence that it had fallen.

"Thank you," I whispered. I wasn't sure if I was thanking him for keeping my secret or wiping away my tear. He gave a small smile. I tried to match it with one of my own, but the corners of my mouth wouldn't obey completely.

Turning away, I stood, facing the stairs. "Do you... do you think I'm a freak?"

"No," Clark said, quickly, jumping up from the couch as if he was lit on fire, "Of course not."

"So, you still want to be my friend?" I asked, "'Cause, you know, this'll change stuff." He slowly turned me around to face him. Titling my head back, I looked up at him as he smiled back down.

"You're still the same Riley to me," he said. I sighed, looking down, again. He seemed to notice my disbelief. "You're still scared of spiders, right?" He bent down a little, trying to look me in the eyes, "Right?"

"Yeah," I confessed.

"And the same Riley that's obsessive with grammar," he went on. I looked up at him, seeing as he grinned at his little nit-picks. "And also is quite the hard-ass, over-emotional, manipulative..."

"I get it!" I exclaimed, laughing a little. I shoved at him, but instead of moving away, he pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face into his chest. I could feel his chin digging slightly into the top of my head as it rested on me. His arms were tightly holding me, as if he didn't want to let go. I knew I didn't. It felt so warm in his embrace that I felt as if I could just snuggle up and take a nap. I felt so safe with him.

Then the books crashed to the floor, making me yelp and almost jump straight up into the air. If I was a cat, my claws would have been stuck in the ceiling. I didn't notice if Clark had flinched or not, but as I glanced to the books, then back to Clark, we burst out laughing.

- - -

Making my way through the halls of the famous Luthor Mansion, I bounced along with the beats of the newest CD I had. I spun on a heal, sliding along the other foot. Slipping over the hard wood floor with my fuzzy-socks on, I gracefully (and it should be graceful, since I had to undergo at least 4 hours a day for 5 years being taught to dance) spun, again.

I threw in a hip-hop move, bouncing on the balls of my feet, my MP3 player in hand and the wires attached to the headphones swung back and forth. My arm was out, parallel to the floor, my hand on my other arm against the side of my head.

"If ya feelin' like a pimp, go on, brush ya shoulders off," I sang, listening to Jay-Z's mix with Linkin Park, "Get that dirt off ya shoulder." Giving another spin, I danced into Lex's office. I had my eyes closed, my sunglasses useless as they laid over the lids. The feeling of my hair brushed my nose and cheeks, as my legs bent and slid me over towards the couch.

I squinted to Lex's desk, seeing him packing things up. It was time to go school-shopping.

"Hey," I said, between the song-change. Another blood-pumping song came up, which was another from the artists, but this time, instead of _Dirt Off Your Shoulder/Lying from You_, it was _Jigga What/Faint_.

Bouncing, again, to the new tempo, I sat on the back of the couch and fell backward, landing with my shoulders at the edge of the cushion and my legs draping over the back. I was still dancing on my back, the giddy feeling inside my stomach that I had kept since I left Clark's barn.

Lex walked over me, looking down at me as I sported a huge grin.

"Why so happy?" he asked, a slight smile of confusion over his own mouth.

I rolled backwards, tucking my knees to my chin and landed on the floor, on my feet. As I stood, I let out a little energy, jumping off the floor, slightly. Turning my MP3 player off, I tilted my head, shrugging my shoulders up to almost where one side touched my lower ear.

"I found a true friend," I said, simply, letting my shoulders drop back into place. My grin turned into an all-out beam of happiness.

I, Riley Wolfe, had a true friend. A true, faithful friend.


	8. Scare

The title to this story has no relation to the episode in the show. Plus, the blood-tears has no relation to anything from the show. That's all I wanted to say, just in case you all were wondering...

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I set my bags of school supplies into the trunk of Lex's Porsche, after a long day of school shopping in Metropolis. It wasn't as painful as I thought it'd be. I mean, after grabbing a few notebooks and folders, along with pens and clicky-pencils (also referred to as mechanical pencils... whatever) my dear cousin brought me shopping for clothes! I hadn't expected clothing to come along with the shopping-spree of knowledge accessories.

I had a blast! I thought I might have maxed out my credit cards. First was the jeans, shorts, and shirts with smart-ass saying on them, then I dragged Lex over to the dresses. I made him give opinions on at least twenty different outfits. He had a smart-aleck remark of that Clark would like especially one of them. It was low-cut, black and semi-tight in just the right places. The hem was diagonally cut, from the left thigh all of the way down to my right shin and was lined with black lace. It swept up over only my left shoulder, to emphasize the effect of the diagonal theme. The mid-section was semi-see-though, but not enough to notice right off. It also had a light dusting of silver glitter here and there.

After pushing him and going back to change, I made up my mind that it was the one I was going to buy... What? I don't really care _that_ much about whether or not Clark would like it... He may never see it, you know? Okay, well, maybe I cared a _little_...

Venturing off towards the swim-suits, I let Lex go. I didn't want any more remarks of what Clark would like. Plus, my cousin giving me opinions about dresses is one thing. Having him tell me whether or not I look good in a swimsuit? That's where I draw the line.

I had picked a good five different suits, paid for them and found Lex in the magazine section. Being fawned over by about three girls.

When I walked over, each pair of eyes glared at me. I just smiled and looked up at Lex, and said that I was ready to go. The girls didn't look too happy as we started to walk away. I wonder if they thought I was his girlfriend... One, that's so demented... I mean, _ew_... and two, that's to be expected, since no one really knew about me. I wasn't as popular as my cousin in the media.

We were in the middle of an emptying parking lot, where people who had the same idea as us were stocking up for school, or just having fun hanging at the mall.

"Can I stay here?" I asked, turning to face the mall, then glancing at Lex, "I mean, I could _live_ here. They have a food-court, clothing, entertainment, and when Christmas or someone's birthday comes around, then I can just walk next-door and buy something."

Lex closed the trunk and pulled out his keys to unlock the driver door. "Where would you sleep?" he asked, smirking at my absurd request.

"Where they sell beds, _duh_," I said, giving a matching 'duh' look, including the raised brows.

"I doubt that the owners would like some girl sleeping in their store and living out of the mall," he said, then nodded to the door on my side, "Get in."

"So?" I continued, opening my door and sitting down in the passenger side just as Lex got in, "A guy stayed in an airport, before."

"That was a movie," he countered, putting the keys in the ignition and turning on the car.

"It was based on a real-life incident," I shot back. He looked at me, pausing for a moment. He didn't seem to believe me. "Well, I _think_ it was, anyway."

Lex shook his head, turning around to look out of the back of the car. After making sure no one was in the way, he whipped out, screeching the wheels to a stop, then shifting into first gear. He hit the gas, the tires screaming as we whipped out of the parking lot and towards home.

About three-quarters of the way there, everything was started to form back into fields and livestock. Sheep, cows, yadda-yadda-yadda. I even saw some horses, too.

"Remind me to go on a horse-back ride sometime in the near future," I said, watching a beautiful horse that was completely black trotting across a field by itself. It was a little hard to see, since it was a little dark out. But the full-moon, which was kind of blueish, tonight, lit up the grass just enough to cast a haunting glow over everything.

"I know someone that might like to go along," Lex said. I looked over at him, rolling my eyes.

"Not another Clark crack," I said.

"No," he said, glancing to me, "There is a young woman who owns a few horses. Her name is Lana Lang. She owns the Talon."

"Oh, her," I said, looking back out through the window to the new line of trees that sped across my vision. Clark told me about her. Quite a few times. She was his old girlfriend, who he wasn't over just yet. It made my stomach a little sour, just thinking about how much Clark talked about her.

"I sense a little resentment," he said.

"No, none at all," I said, a little dully, "It's just... Nothing. Nothing at..." My vision went a little fuzzy and my head started to buzz. I glanced to Lex, whose face was so blurry. I couldn't even see his eyes or anything, and I was sitting right next to him. He was just a shadow, really, in the darkness of the car.

He said something, but I couldn't hear him. He touched my arm, but I barely felt it. What was going on?

"Firefly..." a voice echoed in my mind. I whipped around, trying to find her.

"Mom! What's wrong?" I asked, panicked. How was she getting to me? I wasn't even sleeping! But like the other times, she had a reason to be there. This visit must have been really important.

"Watch out for the wolire," she echoed, "Don't let him bite you."

"What?" What was a wolire? I'd never heard of something like that. I wanted to ask, but everything was clearing. Lex was coming back into focus, his hand still on my arm. He was gently shaking me, yelling my name.

"Riley! Riley, wake up!" he said, his voice cracking in fear and confusion. I rubbed my eyes, seeing that we were pulled over by the side of the road. Lex was turned to me, fully, his eyes wide and afraid.

"Lex..." I said, a little groggily, like I had just taken a bit of a nap.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the fear still there, "What happened?"

I nodded, then ran my hand through my hair. I sat up straight, looking around. The word 'wolire' was still stuck in my head. What was it? Well, obviously, it was a type of animal, since she said that she didn't want it to bite me. I mean, what else could it be? Paperclips? Could paperclips bite?

"Riley..." Lex went to said, but I cut him off with a raise of my hand. A howl sounded through the air, cutting into me like a cold knife through the heart. Turning to Lex, I was wide-eyed.

"Home," I said, "_Now_."

"But what happened?" he asked, seeming not to hear the howl, "Why did you pass out?"

"Lex-" Just as I was about to leap at him for ignoring my request, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. It ran on all fours out from the road-side tree-line, slamming into the side of the car, the passenger window cracking along the bottom. I screamed, knowing that that was what my mother was talking about. "_Go_!" I yelled, pressing my hands to the door.

Quickly, Lex hit the gas, ripping up dirt and then squealing over the pavement.

"What the hell was that?!" Lex exclaimed, glancing in his review mirror.

I turned around in my seat, looking back into the darkness we left behind. I swore that I saw two eyes glaring after us. They were glowing a blood-red color, but were lost after we rounded a corner.

- - -

My breath was still caught in my throat as we entered our driveway and pulled up to the front door. Leaving the things in the trunk, I ran inside, afraid that the wolire-thing had followed us all the way home.

Lex wasn't as hurried as me, but entered the house without the bags. He, too, wanted to get inside. After a scare like that, I didn't blame him.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, again, breaths heaving like he had run a straight mile.

"I don't know," I lied. I wasn't going to tell him that my mother had come to me when I passed out and told me it was a wolire that had a nasty bite. And it was self-evident that it had a good car-ramming-ability, too.

"I'm going to call Game Warden," he said, "Something like that shouldn't be let alone."

"Yeah," was all I could get out. I was by the window, looking out to the car. The whole side was dented in, the glass definitely cracked, as if a spider-web had been placed along the base and stretched towards the top.

What kind of thing could make such a big dent like that? I got up as much courage as I could find inside myself and opened the door. Stepping lightly, I slowly made my way towards the large dent. Reaching out, I traced my fingers along the center of the hit, where it was bent in the most. The impression kind of reminded me of a shoulder.

Running the rest of the crease with my fingertips, I came upon some strange hair. It was gray in color, and kind of scruffy. I pulled it from where it was stuck, holding it up into the outside light to get a better look. There was something about it that signaled a dog or maybe a wolf. But I'd never seen a wolf that big, before.

"Riley!" Lex yelled from the porch. I whipped around, seeing him on the phone. He looked a little angry and distressed, "Get back inside!"

As if a fire was lit under my feet, I hopped up the steps two-by-two and slid in through the doorway. Lex closed the entrance, turning to give me the angry-disappointed look.

"Don't go back outdoors," he ordered, "Not until it's safe."

"Sorry," I said, sheepishly. I held the tuft of fur in my hand, behind my back. I didn't know why, but I had to keep it a secret.

Lex looked down, turning the mouth-piece of the phone back towards his lips, "Yes? Sheriff Adams? This is Lex Luthor. I need to inform you that there is some sort of large animal running around on Hanson Road." He made his way out of the foyer and somewhere down the nearest hallway to his office. The last words I heard were, "Yes, near the old Ferris house..." Then he was too far to even hear.

I turned, taking one more glance out through the window, at the ruined door. I rubbed the fur between my fingers, a feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me that this wasn't the last time I would be seeing that strange beast called a wolire.

- - -

Darkness. I spun around and around, only the inky black night meeting my eyes. Finally, a white-silk bed came into view. I sighed with relief, seeing a familiar person sitting on the neatly made covers. But her face was in her hands. She was crying.

"Mom?" I asked, going over and sitting next to her, "Mom, what's wrong?"

"I couldn't save you," she quietly cried into her palms, "I couldn't keep him from getting you."

"But I wasn't bitten," I said, trying to comfort her, "He didn't even get into the car."

"Firefly," she said, sniffling, "He may not have touched you, but he has marked you. You are his next target."

"For what?" I asked. She let her hands drop to her lap, but her head was still tilted down to gaze towards the floor.

"He wants to turn you," she quietly whispered. I glanced down at her hands, seeing blood covering her palms and dribbling down her wrists. A drop of the red liquid fell into one of the small puddles, ripples waving from the center, out towards the rims.

I gasped as she turned to look up at me. Her face was covered with blood, all of what seemed to have come from her eyes. Line after line was smudged over her beautiful skin. Drops formed on her chin and nose, one falling onto her white gown.

A warm liquid feeling touched my hand that was placed behind us. I leaped up from the bed as thick blood seeped through the white comforter and pillows. Soon, the once white bed was entirely a crimson color, blood dripping off the bed skirt and creating puddles and small streams every which way.

"What..." I tried to say, but a howl made my skin prickle and my heart jump into my throat. Turning, a creature was running towards me, its head down and long, white teeth bared. Snarling, it leaped, almost in slow motion, colliding into me and sending me straight into the lake of blood in the center of the bed.

"_Mom_!" I screamed, falling with this thing on top of me. The bed seemed to not have an end, nothing ever hitting my back. He ripped at my left arm with his long, black claws that were on each human-like finger. The eyes glared at me with an out-of-control fire behind them, glowing red into my own eyes. His fur was gray, long back strands of hair hanging over his wolf-like ears and face. I could see behind him, a pair of black, bat-like wings and a tail with long, black hairs whipped back and forth through the air.

Falling. Falling and not being able to get this monster off of me. It slashed another long trail of ripped cloth along my stomach, then another across my right shoulder. The pain was overwhelming. I fought for my life, but I couldn't get him off.

I watched, wide-eyed, as he opened his mouth, ready to sink those long, painful teeth into me.

Without warning, my back slammed into something semi-soft, scaring me enough to scream. A pair of hands were on my shoulders, shaking me. I screamed, again, not wanted to open my eyes and see the beast that was going to devour me without a second thought.

_I don't think so!_ I thought, then pulled back a fist, glaring up at the suddenly blurry being. Releasing all of my fear and anger into one punch, I cracked my knuckles against its face, sending it sprawling backwards and into my bookshelf.

Wait, bookshelf? Where did that come from? Rubbing my eyes, I saw what was really going on.

Lex was against the shelves in my room, clutching the side of his face. "Lex?" I asked, confused.

"Nice right hook," he said, pushing himself back up onto his feet. He was in his pajamas, which consisted of a white t-shirt and gray sweat pants. He rubbed the new bruise that was forming over his cheek.

"Oh my god!" I said, "I'm so sorry! I thought you were..." Pausing, I quickly made up something else to say, instead of wolire. "Someone else."

"Like who? A burglar?" he asked, then walked back towards me. He gave his cheek one final rub, then dropped his hand to his side. "I came to check on you. I could hear you screaming from my room."

"Oh, well, uh... I-It was just a bad dream," I said. Yeah, right, bad dream... More like a living hell.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he said, examining me as if I had an illness. "I'm not surprised you would have a nightmare, after what happened in the car..."

"Nah, I'm fine," I said, quickly. The look in his eye said that he didn't believe me.

"You can talk to me," he said, "I'm here."

"No, I'm okay. Really," I said. I sounded more like I was trying to convince myself instead of him.

"If you need me, I'll be in my room," he said, slowly, as if he was explaining something to me. I nodded, the movement a little jittery and forced.

Pausing to watch me for a moment, he nodded back. Giving me a quick kiss on the forehead, he turned, heading to my door. With one more look-over to make sure I was fine, he closed it. I could hear his bare feet thudding lightly until he got to the stairs.

A small cold wind crept through my window, making me turn to look at the crack I always left for the fresh air in the morning. It wasn't morning, yet, but pitch black, still, a few stars twinkling in the distant sky.

It looked more open than usual. Quickly, I leaped to the window pane, slamming it shut and locking it. Pulling down the shade and closing the curtains, I let my forehead rest on the small bump the top of the lower window pane left.

I winched a little, after letting out a small sigh. My stomach hurt. Taking a step back, I pulled my night-shirt up, showing four, long bruises across my stomach, right where I had been attacked. Checking my arm and shoulder, shorter, but identical bruises showed. Each one greenish-purple in color and quite painful.

"Great," I said to no one, "Long-sleeves in the summer. That's just perfect."

I made my way back to bed, climbing into the dark blue covers. But I didn't fall asleep for the rest of the night.

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Thanks for all of the great reviews! Keep 'em comin'!


	9. Truth

Footsteps came down my hallway, the soft thudding as I had heard when Lex had left my room, last night. Automatically, I jumped up from my bed, snatching my bath-robe to swing around my shoulders. I needed something to cover up my bruises. After running to the door, I swung it open. I caught him just as his hand was in mid-air, going to knock.

"Hey, Lex," I said, quickly, energy pumping through my system. Forced energy, that is. That's what I get for no sleep and nothing but terror-driven thoughts. The guilty feelings flooded back after seeing the bruise over Lex's cheek.

"Riley, I didn't know that you were up," he said, mildly surprised.

_Never even went back to bed_, I thought, but responded with, "Yeah. Got a good sleep after the nightmare." I didn't want Lex to know that I was running on pure, forced adrenaline. He would worry too much. "So, what's up?"

"I have to run to the plant," he said.

"Ah, yes," I said, my hand shaking a little. I casually put it behind my back, wanting to mask any sign of being jittery. Didn't want to raise any suspicions. "The infamous, what was it, 'Crap Factory'?"

He smirked, "Yes. I don't know when I will be back, so feel free to have the chef bake, boil or fry any meal you would like. I have my cell on me, so if there's any emergency..."

"Like a money-shortage?" I piped in.

"Like pain, severe bleeding, or death, you can reach me on it," he finished.

"Ah, _those_ kind of emergencies," I nodded, winking at him, "Got'cha."

"And I'd like you to stay home, today," he added, just before walking away.

"Why?" I demanded, wanting to know why he was suddenly reprimanding me from leaving the premises. I opened the door, entirely, a shocked look all over my face.

"The Sheriff hasn't had any luck with the animal we encountered in the woods, last night. It would make me feel better if you stayed inside, until it's found." He rested a hand on my shoulder, which was conveniently the one that still had the slash-like bruises across the skin. I tried my hardest not to wince. "Okay? I don't want to worry about you while I'm in a meeting."

"But-"

"Okay?" he stressed. He knew how I liked the woods, and how I had the urge to always explore. But I didn't want to stay in one spot. That's usually how a targeted prey is found and easily caught. But it meant a lot to him. Somehow the respect for him over-rode the fear that still echoed in the back of my mind from the attack, in the car and in my dream.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed, "I agree to my house-arrest, Warden. I shall be confined to my jail-cell until further notice."

"Thank you," he said, then turned to head off down the hallway.

Quickly, I ran out of my room, leaning out through my doorframe. "What if-"

"No," he said, "There will be a guard at the front gate." Then turned the corner, disappearing from sight. I sighed, angry that he had known what I was going to ask. It _was_ going to be, "What if I got a ride?" Yet, The Magnificent Mind-reader Lex, saw right through me. That was the only thing I hated about him. He could read me like I was the daily newspaper, knowing what I was thinking before I even said it.

That cheap-o.

- - -

Sitting in my room, I watched out through my window. There were birds of blue and a few of black. They mixed kind of well with the green of the trees and the grass. They also matched the sky's blue, thought it was lighter than most of the blue-colored birds. I thought it still looked pretty cool.

After growing tired of staring out at the backyard, I turned away, heading towards my bedroom door. I had taken a shower to take up time of the day, but it only lasted a half-hour. Some time-consumer. I changed into a different set of pajamas, which were a violet tank-top that was about an inch above my belly-button, and a pair of short-shorts of the matching silk material. I rolled the top of the shorts down a little, since they went a little high for my taste.

My favorite part of them were the violet fuzzy socks, which I had become obsessed with since I was around 15 or so. Every time I go out, I buy a different color or pattern. I almost have enough pairs to fill an entire drawer of my bureau. Silly, maybe, but quite comfortable.

I didn't bother covering up the slashes, since they seemed to be fading a little, but not enough to not see from a certain range. Plus, the only people that were really in the house were the chefs, in Lex's kitchen, and the guards at the front gates. None of them really wandered around the house. If anything, they were probably watching TV.

"Hmm, TV," I said to myself. I made my way down the stairs and into my own, private living room. There stood a plasma TV, against the wall, and about three pieces of furniture. They each were a burgundy color, and soft. Kind of velvety. I hated the leather seats in Lex's office. They squeaked every time someone moved. I was always too afraid that someone would think that I ripped one when I was just moving to become more comfortable.

Shelves lined the walls, antique items here and there to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over. They didn't tickle my fancy, so I was yet to even look at them. My favorite art of the living room, save for the TV, was the hidden closet. Numerous things were kept in there, like the blankets Clark and I had used for our little movie-night.

Before plopping down on the couch, I bent down, rummaging through the tapes Clark and I were yet to watch. None of them really caught my attention. So, after using the ol' 'Inny-Minny-Miny-Moe' method, I picked up _X-Men_. Glancing twice at the disc, I sighed. Mutant powers in a world that any normal human would reject. Sounded familiar.

Tossing the movie behind myself, I relinquished its place as my favorite movie of all time.

"Riley?" Clark's voice came through the doorway. I gasped, not really hearing him come in. I whipped around, seeing those blue-green eyes searching the room. God, that kid needed a hair-cut.

"Clark!" I said, trying to sound happy he was there, but the panic ran just under the fake tone, "Why are you here? I mean, what brings you to this side... area... place?" I gave up talking, deciding to smack on the easy-to-use fake smile. I was suddenly very aware about not wearing very much. Then painfully aware that all of my bruises were basically completely visible.

"I heard about the attack, last night," he said, making his way closer to me. I kept moving around the couch, trying to keep some distance as not for him to really notice the marks on my body. He seemed a little confused.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, my arms that I had crossed over my stomach shaking a little, "From who?"

"The Sheriff," he said, slower than before. The confused look was growing more and more as he went on, "She called to warn us about it. Said that we should keep an eye on the cows."

"Oh, yeah?" I repeated. I mentally slapped myself for acting so weird. If there was any possibility that he wasn't suspicious of my behavior before, then it was just blown to smithereens.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stepping around the couch. I automatically countered by slipping around the back. But the floor's throw-rug tripped me up, sending me straight to the floor. I cried out, landing heavily on my back-side then flopping onto my back. My arm rested above my head, where they had landed from my graceful drop.

Before I could sit up, Clark was just at my side, kneeling down to help me up. When I looked down, I could see his hand hovering in the air, just near my bruises.

"Clark," I went to say, trying to think of something to make up as an excuse.

"Riley, what happened?" he asked, concerned. I sat up, but he put his hand on my shoulder. Gasping from the sudden rush of pain from the contact, I jerked back, lightly grabbing my shoulder.

Gently, Clark pulled my resistant hand back, showing more bruises and at the same time, the rest on the opposite arm. He carefully brushed his fingertips over the fading greenish-purple marks.

"I fell?" I said, putting on my half-humored smile. He didn't seem to share the mood.

"How did you get this?" he asked, looking me square in the eyes. I opened my mouth, trying to give him some reason, any reason that wasn't the wolire that was intending to kill me.

"Look, it doesn't matter," I said, pushing past him to stand. He stood as well.

"It does if you're being hurt," he said, "Please, Riley. Talk to me."

"Why does everyone want to always talk?" I demanded, instantly building my brick wall of defense. It always rose up whenever I had something I was trying to hide. I turned away, throwing my hands in the air, "I mean, why can't I have secrets of my own?"

"You shouldn't keep a secret that's causing you harm," he said, taking a step towards me to emphasize his point.

"Do you have any secrets, Clark?" I demanded, turning around to face him, "Something that you never want anyone else to know? Something that, if you told people, would probably get you to end up in a cuckoo's nest with your own personal wardrobe of white and long, long sleeves?"

"I'm not people," he said, "It's only me."

"Ah, you're avoiding my question," I pointed out, shaking a finger at him.

"And you're avoiding mine," he countered. Pausing, I tried to think of something else to say, but Clark beat me to the punch, "Riley, please. I won't tell anyone. You're secret's safe with me." He looked so honest. So pure. "I kept your other one, didn't I?" he added as good measure.

I made a small sound of a coming excuse, but I just shut it down. I could trust him. He was a true friend, after all, right?

I sat us down, telling him about the warnings my mother had been giving me. I then explained the attack in the car, and the attack in my dream. I told him that I had hit Lex pretty hard when I woke up and that I hadn't had any sleep since.

"Wolire?" he asked, "Did she explain what it was?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. I looked down at my hands, rubbing my palm with the opposite thumb, "She just said that I can't let it bite me."

"But you've been marked," he said, slowly. He seemed to be registering it all, trying to process what information I had given him.

"I know, it's weird," I said, looking up at him, alarmed that he thought that I was a total nut-case, "But it's all true." I gestured towards my arm, "I've even got the bruises to prove it."

"No, I believe you," he said, after glancing at the marks. Thinking for a moment, he looked back up to my eyes, "Is it okay if I ask a friend to look into wolires? She's really helpful..."

"No, Clark, no one can know about this!" I said, panicked, "Not even about the car incident! I don't want anyone to know!"

"It's okay," he said, trying to calm me, "I won't give your name. I'll just say that I'm doing a class project." I nodded, my heart sliding back down into place from being caught in my throat.

My mind paused for a moment, re-thinking about something he just said. I squinted at him, confused, "You have someone do your projects for you?"

"No, no!" he said, "Of course not."

I gave a sarcastic nod, "Yeah, sure..."

"I don't," he insisted, then smiled at my sarcasm. I shook my head, laughing a little. Clark had, yet again, relieved my stress. It made me kind of glad to have a friend like him.

Yawning, I stretched a little. After having all of that pressure lifted from my shoulders for the moment, I was quite tired. You would be, too, if you had almost an entire night of wide-eyed fear and countless minutes of paranoia.

"Tired?" he asked. I nodded, then quickly shook my head, setting my mind straight. I pushed my hair from my face, trying to look as awake as possible.

"Not at all," I said. An obvious lie, since another stifled yawn tried to creep through my lips.

"You need some rest," he said. It wasn't as much a suggestion than a request.

"But what if he comes back?" I asked, my panic level rising, again. I was still a little too scared to fall asleep, yet.

"I'll stay with you," he offered. He stood, seeming to remember where the hidden closet was, and pulled out a black, thermal blanket.

All I could do was nod, as he draped it over me while I laid down on the couch. He sat down in the chair opposite to the couch, slouching to get comfortable. I couldn't help but stare at him. Could someone really be that caring? It was kind of strange.

"Clark," I said, quietly, "Do you think I'm crazy?"

He smiled, slowly shaking his head as he whispered back, "No."

"Thanks," I said, smiling, too. I closed my eyes, letting out a small breath. Relaxing came easily with Clark only feet away.


	10. Exposed

Don't we all, DuMont, don't we all... lol.

Sorry for the long pause... School stuff. Anyway, thanks for the great reviews! I'll try not to prolong any other chapters in the near future!

-

The night was kind of cold, but it didn't seem to really bother me. Sure, I got prickly skin every so often, but not like up in Vermont. Almost ever night was cold, as the season grew closer and closer to fall.

I sat out in a meadow, on the black, thermal blanket. The stars shown brightly overhead, the full moon lighting the grass with a ghostly dull light blue, darker blue in the shadows. The two tones of colors extended out into the branches of the trees, until the leaves grew too thick, casting black shadows against the trunks and ground.

I couldn't see out into the woods that surrounded me from each side, but I couldn't seem to care. I felt safe. Safer than ever. Almost like I was protected by an invisible shield, that wouldn't let anything toxic or dangerous touch my skin.

My knees were drawn up to my chin, letting my head rest upon them as my arms were wrapped around my shins. I could feel a small breeze roll through my hair, pulling strands here and there through the wind. Closing my eyes, I let the softness of the air graze my bare face, my bare shoulders and arms. It reminded me of my fuzzy socks.

Smiling, I stood, opening my arms to invite more wind to wash over me. As if it could read my thoughts, the small breeze grew, pressing against me, as if to try and force me into the air. As if wanting me to fly with it.

A laugh had burst out of my throat, the feeling of gravity seeming to lessen. My feet were being slowly pulled away from the blanket. My arms were strained against the growing current, but it didn't phase me. It was all so natural.

The blanket was completely gone, the wind forcing me to hover just inches above it. I was free. Totally free.

Arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly, as if to protect me from falling. Lowering my arms, I placed my hands over the ones of my guardian. My heart was light and my mind was buzzing with happiness.

Resting my head against the shoulder of my guardian, I took a deep breath of the still whipping air. I could smell the familiar scent of hay. Instantly, I knew who it was. It had to be. He felt so right, felt so strong as he held he in the air.

Raising a hand, I wrapped it behind his neck. I could feel the soft, bushy locks that twisted around my fingers as my hand ran over his head. His arms tightened, as if never wanting to let me go.

But it felt a little too tight. I started to breathe only shallow breaths, his arms like stone around my stomach.

"Clark," I gasped, choking from his hold, "Clark, you're hurting me."

My eyes opened, as my hand dropped to try and pull free from his grasp. What I saw made me want to scream. I would have if the air could get into my lungs.

Gray fur instantly started to grow along the muscular arms around me. They flexed, squeezing me harder. The rest of the air was brutally wrenched out of my lungs. I was helpless.

Looking up, I saw the handsome face, the shining smile of Clark Kent turn into the wolf-like mussel and the bright, glowing red eyes that were almost hidden behind the black hair that whipped in the still strengthening wind.

I opened my mouth to yell, to scream, to at least beg to be let go or to ask why he was betraying me. But there was no air inside of me. My chest burned in pain, my head swimming from the lack of oxygen.

"Sorry, love," he growled into my ear, his voice low, rumbling like an earthquake, "But no screaming, this time."

Opening his mouth widely, I saw every jagged, white tooth. Every piece of my death. He brought his head down, his jaws digging into the same shoulder he had slashed at, before. All of his teeth seemed to sink in, deep within my skin. There was a distinct crack of bone.

I couldn't describe the pain or the fear I had been feeling at that moment. It was pure horror, and the realization that I could die without saying good-bye to anyone. Without even seeing my mother one, last time. It made my heart feel like it was pure ice, thought my chest still burned, madly.

I was about to give up. I was about to just let him have me. Let him kill me. Yet, his grip around my body was ripped away, his teeth torn from my shoulder. I could finally scream. I could finally cry for help.

But, I didn't. I only fell to the ground, landing on the blanket, like a rag doll dropped from the hands of a child. Then left, as if the child didn't notice the sudden loss of her toy. The wind had died away, not even a trace of its existence left over. I felt all alone. Completely alone.

I woke on the couch, opening my eyes to see blue-green ones staring back at me. His hands were on my shoulders, sending pain through my whole side, including my arm.

"Get off!" I screamed at him, leaping away from the traitor. He jumped back, alarmed, a look of concern over his face. I knew it was just as fake as our friendship. "You used me! You lied to me!"

"Riley, calm down!" Clark said, raising his hands into the air, as if to signal to be still. For an instant, I saw blood on his right palm. That confirmed it. The dream was true. It was him, Clark Kent, who had bitten me.

I rolled over the back of the couch, landing on my feet and running as fast as I could out through the door and out into the hall. I had to run. I had to get away from him. I could hear him running after me. His boots thudded heavily over the hard wood floor.

"Get away from me!" I screamed behind myself as I pushed through the back door. I ran into the woods, moving like I had just been given a giant dosage of sugar and my whole body was on over-drive.

I didn't know how long I had run for, but I had to stop. My body was weak, and the pain in my shoulder hurt so badly. A bite mark was etched into my shoulder, blood leaking from every puncture that his teeth had made. It wasn't bleeding enough to make me pass out, but I still had red streaks that reached as far as my elbow.

He had bitten me. And I couldn't stop him. I had failed to prevent my mother's warning. I didn't know what it meant, but I had a feeling that it wouldn't give me the giggles or let me see happy little rainbows.

The gentle cracking of twigs echoed in my hears, my eyes whipping around, desperately searching for the direction it was coming from. But it sounded like it was all around. Like there were many. Were the guards coming after me? They had to of seen me run out of the back door. It was a clear view from where they had been stationed.

"I'm over-" but I cut myself off. What if it was Clark? What if he had found me? But there were more than one. None of the guards would be stupid enough to help Clark, after seeing him chase me out of the house?

I looked around myself, again, deciding that moving was a good thing. I had to get back to the house. But... which way? I was lost. I had run too deeply into the forest to know where I was. I couldn't even tell what direction I had come from.

"Shit," I choked, air caught in my throat. I was lost with some sort of beast chasing after me. I was a goner. There was no hope left. I was just as helpless as I was in the dream. The dream where my best friend, my true friend had tried to kill me.

"Hey," a male voice said behind my back. I whipped around, my hands going out in defense. Automatically, the figure slowed, leaving him in mid-step towards me. At first, I believed him to be Clark. He was tall, and had shaggy, black hair. But his eyes were darker. Kind of a dark brown. And as I looked closer, he was a bit skinnier, though still had some muscle on him.

I didn't know what to do. It hit me that I had never _unfroze_ something, before. Well, voluntarily. And I didn't know how long it would take to get him moving, again.

"Shit!" I said, again, stepping over some twigs that were stabbing at my raw, bare feet. I took a second to scold myself for running out in such a blind panic. If only I could have grabbed something to wear on my feet.

Slowly, cautiously, I reached out, touching my fingers to his face. He felt warm, but his skin was a hard as a rock. Like he was a painted statue. Even his semi-baggy shirt was unmoving as a gust of wind blew through my hair. It made my skin prickle with fear.

"Ms. Wolfe!" a female voice echoed through the trees, "Ms. Wolfe! Where are you?" I could hear more voices all through the woods.

As much as I wanted to call to them, to be safe with the guards, I couldn't have them find me. Not yet. I still had this frozen guy here, his mouth still half-open from the next words that were to come out.

Turning back to the stranger, I decided to try something. It was a guess, and had three outcomes. One, it would unfreeze him. Two, he would stay the same. Three, he would, well, shatter.

I decided to try, anyway, even though the chances of succeeding was one out of three. Setting my hands to his chest, I shoved his unmoving figure into a sudden fall, heading straight for the ground. Wincing, I closed my eyes, waiting to hear a crash and something that was similar to broken glass.

"Hey!" A thud came to my ears just after the exclamation. Opening my eyes, I saw whoever he was lying on the ground.

"Riley!" Clark's voice echoed through the trees, making my spine feel like it was one, long icicle, "Riley, please! Come back!"

I bent down to the guy, trying not to let my voice crack. "I'm lost. Can you get me out of here?" I asked, my hands shaking. Automatically, I knew it was a bad excuse. There were people shouting for me, who sounded concerned for me. Why would he help? Glancing around, I checked to see if Clark had seen me, yet. No, it was only still the guy and me.

"Sounds like you're already found," he said, sitting up and looking at me with a slightly curious gaze.

"I don't want to be found by them," I said. I almost felt like I was going to burst with tears from the fear that wouldn't go away. Every cell of my body was itching with it. If I was found by Clark, I knew I wouldn't last even for two seconds. "Please," I begged, looking him fearfully in the eyes.

He glanced around me, hearing another shout for me. He sighed, pushing himself up onto his feet, and jutting his head to where he had come from. "C'mon. I don't live far from here."

"Thank you," I said, following him as he made his way through the woods.


	11. Zan Hemming

His house was in what seemed like the center of the woods. It was a log house that reminded me of the little building set Lex and I used to play with whenever we got together for a visit. Smoke was curling out of the chimney like white fog you would see on a warm night with barely thawing ground. It reminded me of Vermont in the early Spring. There was usually mist rolling around your feet as it played with the de-iced grass.

"In here," the guy said, pulling out a set of keys as he approached the ground-level deck. He unlocked the front door, opening it widely. He paused, looking back at me. I stepped forward, my arms wrapped around my stomach. My skin was still crawling, but I felt a little safer as I made my way inside his home.

The first thing I thought of once I took a gander at the interior was that it was cozy. There were warm colors everywhere, browns and reds. I spotted an old-fashioned stove in the center of the living room. The second thing I spotted, or I should say didn't spot, was a television.

My mind trailing along those lines, I realized that he didn't really have anything electrical in sight. There were bronze-colored lanterns with oil in the bases and a thick wick. Each one was burnt, signaling that they had been used, before.

"I'll get the first-aid kit," he said, closing the door and breaking off down a short hall to the left. I gingerly walked along the hardwood floor, my feet in pain from running on so many broken twigs and rough roots from trees.

Standing in the center of the room, I rubbed my fingers on my upper arms. Finally alone and out of danger, I could feel the emotions gush through my veins and into my mind like a sudden rush of blood. My chin dropped to rest on my chest, tears welling up into my eyes. One fell just as the guy entered back into the room.

I could hear him pause for only a second, then slowly approach me. "Here," he said, gently taking my arm and leading me to the couch, "Sit down."

I quickly wiped my tear away, looking up at him as he sat across from me on what looked like a home-made coffee table. My eyes felt red and puffy, and were still hot. My sight was slightly obstructed from the tears that were yet to fall.

He busied himself with the first-aid kit, pulling out some hydrogen peroxide and gauze pads. "My name's Zan," he said, "And from what I heard, yours is Riley."

"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat, sniffling a little bit after. I awkwardly wiped my eyes, again, catching a tear that was about to fall.

There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence as he gently cleaned the wound on my shoulder. It suddenly occurred to me that ever since I came to Smallville, I had been hurt more times than the rest of my life put together.

Setting the peroxide aside, he started to put a wrap on it, ripping the end of it and bringing one end over the back and one over the front to tie together just on top of my shoulder.

"It looks better cleaned up," he commented, making a knot and then sitting back as if to admire his work, "So, was it a dog?"

"What?" I asked, confused, but realizing that he was talking about the bite wound, "Oh... yeah, yeah it was." I touched the white wrap, letting my fingers rest just under the bite. "Thank you," I said, my puffy eyes connecting with his.

"No problem," he said, setting the first-aid kit aside then reaching for me. I jerked back, my hands almost going out to freeze him. "Don't worry," he said, almost as alarmed as me. He slowly finished his stretch, pulling a thick, tan blanket from the back of the couch. He opened it, wrapping it around my shoulders. "Better?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling stupid. He wasn't going to hurt me, just get something to warm me up.

"Sorry," I said, watching my blanket-covered lap. I could feel my cheeks burning, a sign that my ears were also turning red.

"I understand," Zan said, leaning on his knees, his hands joined in a sort of casual posture. There was that silence, again. But it wasn't as uncomfortable. "Are you hungry?" he asked, standing and walking into another room, only separated by a half-wall from the living room.

Ignoring the fact that I hadn't eaten all day, I replied, "No, thanks, but could I have some water?"

"Sure," he said, opening the far cupboard and pulling out a red mug that had a yellow ring around the top. Filling it with a water jug that he probably bought in town, he turned back to retrace his steps to rest once again on the coffee table before me. I graciously took the mug, the blanket opening to let out my arms.

Right away, I sucked the whole thing down, not taking a breath in between gulps. The cool feeling rushed through my chest and stomach, giving me a comforting sensation that countered the tight knot in my whole torso.

"I guess you haven't been watered, lately," he said, a bit surprised. A smile didn't appear on my face. I clutched the mug, looking down into the little bit of water resting at the bottom. There was a little bit of a hint of black, where some of my hair was hanging down to make the reflection.

My mind was reeling, even though I was spacing out on the outside. Why was Clark the wolire? How come he just bit me, and didn't finish me off in my sleep? He wanted to kill me, right? So why even wait? He'd had so many opportunities to just slice me and that'd be that. I mean, when he and I were alone, downstairs, watching movies and shoveling impossible amounts of junk food into our faces, he could have just got me right then. Or when we were alone in the barn. Of any of the countless times we were alone, together.

Footsteps. On the porch. They came to my ears like individual drum beats. There was another set, too, but they were still on the ground, outside. A knock made me drop my cup onto the floor, it landing with a hollow thunk.

"Hello?" a female voice called through the door, "Hello? Is anyone home?"

"One minute!" Zan answered, standing up. I stood up as well, panicking. They were going to find me, and Clark would be able to get to me, again. At the thought of this, fear shot through my chest, the tight knot constricting even more around my heart.

Zan took my arm, leading me towards the doorway. I was stunned. He was giving me to them? But why? He saved me! How could he betray me, too?

But just as we reached the door, he turned down the short hall, pulling me after. He guided me into one of the rooms, pausing just as we came to the center of what looked like a bedroom. After knock echoed through the house.

"Stay quiet," he said, softly, then turned, exiting through the door, but stopping short for a moment to close it after him.

I couldn't help but go to the door, pressing my ear against the wood and listening with a look of concentration. I could hear what was going on inside the room better than I thought I could have.

Zan had opened the front door. It creaked, a signal to where it needed some grease put on its hinges. The sound made my teeth grind together. But it was only for a quick second, covered by the voices I could hear like they were only inches from my ears.

"Can I help you?" Zan asked the woman on the other side of the door.

"Yes, we're looking for a lost girl. She about five feet, five inches tall and around 120 to 125 lbs. Red and black hair, a little hard to miss," the woman's voice spoke.

"Her name's Riley-" I whipped my head from the door, staggering backward as if I had been slapped. That was Clark's voice! He had to know I was there! Why else would he be at this place, asking for me?

I shook my head, trying to get my mind straight. No. That wasn't right. It was just blind panic trying to get me to run. He couldn't know I was here. This was the nearest house. Of course they would be asking about me!

Carefully, I tip-toed back over to the door, pressing my ear back to the stained wood.

"Are you sure you haven't seen her?" Clark asked, sounding a little anxious and worried. He was a better actor than Evil-Bitch-From-Hell was. If he wasn't trying to kill me, then I would have been proud of him.

"Sorry," Zan said, "Wish I could help."

"Thank you, Mr. Hemming," said the woman, "But if you do see her, please, notify us immediately."

"Of course," he said, "Good luck."

That awful creaking noise made me back away from the door, rubbing my ears. Why did that sound hurt so much?

As I was busy with the ringing ears, Zan opened the door. "You can come out, now. They're gone."

Carefully, I ventured out into the living room, taking a quick look around as a safety precaution. Yes, they were really gone.

"I need to get home," I said, realizing that Lex might be back. I couldn't imagine what he would be thinking, coming home to an empty house where he told me to stay. I had promised him. Clark had made me break that promise.

"Is there someone there?" he asked, "Someone to look after you?"

"Yeah," I said, hoping that Lex had come home. Yet, I didn't want him to see me in this condition. Huge bandage on my shoulder, torn pajamas and really scratched-up feet? He would know that something huge just happened. He would never let me out of the house, again. But I really wouldn't mind that at this point.

"Let me walk you home," he asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head. I knew where Clark was. I would be able to get home without running into him.

"Are you sure-"

"Yes," I said, looking up at him, "Thank you. For everything." Slowly I turned, heading to the door to leave.

"Wait," he called, jogging over to me, "Here, take my coat and some shoes, at least." He pulled a brown coat with some rough fur lining off from a rack and wrapped it around my shoulders. It concealed my bandages well enough. He pulled a pair of shoes from the same corner, just under the rack. They were larger than my own feet, but anything was better than going bare foot, again.

I smiled weakly, nodding in thanks. Taking one last second to memorize his face, I opened the door, walking out onto the porch and into the woods.


	12. School Time

I'm having a hard time trying to find a name for this chapter, so if any of you want to, just give an idea! I'm open to any suggestions!

* * *

I got home fine. Sure, there were the occasional pauses of paranoia when a bird flew off a branch or a squirrel chattered my way. I even threw a pinecone at a tree's trunk as I reached the forest's line. Hey, something _was_ hiding behind it, okay? Sure, it turned out as a cat, but it could have... attacked or something.

After telling the guards I was back, and calmed the hysterics I had created, and also explained the red stuff on the couch, I had taken a bath, my bedroom door and bathroom door locked constantly. Though, it didn't ease the uneasy feeling in my stomach. I just felt out of place. Or maybe that I was only in _one_ place. I'd walk around if I didn't think Clark was out there.

It was almost dark out when Lex got back. The knock on my door almost made me leap off from my bed and cling to the ceiling like a cartoon cat. At least I didn't punch him that time.

"Riley?" Lex asked through the wood of my door, "Are you in there?"

"Yeah," I said, a little too loudly and uneasily. Quickly, I covered my panic up with a grin and a bounce in my step. Opening the door, I leaned on it, my arms crossed under a dark blue t-shirt which I had on with a matching pair of pajama pants. "What's up?"

He looked me over for a quick second, seeming to be taken a little aback by my panicked outburst, then my calm, cool attitude at the door. The pause was unbearable.

"I understand that you had a nice walk, today," he finally said.

I nodded, then shrugged, "Needed some air."

"I thought we made an agreement-"

"Sorry about that," I said, pushing off the door and walking past him, "But it's in the past, now." I was only a few steps away before he stopped me.

"You may have this habit with your father and his wife," he said after me, "But if you insist to use it on me, then you will have to find another place to stay."

I almost tripped over myself. Did he really just say that to me? I could only turn to look at him as he continued.

"I don't make contracts with companies then turn my back on them. It wouldn't make me a very prosperous businessman," he said, walking up to me, his seriousness etched into the stone-like look on his face, "If you break another promise with me, the consequence won't be quite that appealing."

"Lex-" I went to say, but he kind of half-shook his head as a warning.

"Do you understand?" he said, calmly. It almost gave me chills of fear. He was completely serious. If I didn't pick up my act, he would kick me out without a second thought.

"Yeah," I said, instantly. He nodded, giving a smile and patting me on the shoulder. Luckily, it was the one that didn't have a bandage on it.

"Good," he said, then started to walk down the hallway, "Dinner is in about a half-hour. I've had the chief make your favorite."

"Cool, I'll be there," I said, but the bounciness was gone. I was just warned by the last person on earth I would think of. I was his closest cousin. I mean, we grew up together. We played with building blocks, for crying out loud! He really couldn't just punt me out. Could he?

Well, it _was_ his house. I was the guest. He could just give me to some orphanage or something, until I was 18. Well, no, he wouldn't go that far. But what do I know? I hadn't seen him for years, so I don't know how much he had changed since the building blocks.

-

"Riley," Lex said, knocking on my door, "Get up."

"Why," I said, my voice muffled slightly by my pillow. I had been having a good dream. One that didn't consist of anything. Or I just wasn't remembering it. Either way was fine with me.

"Because if you want to make a good first impression, you have to arrive at the school on time," he said. I shot up straight, my back slightly strained. Instantly, my arms gave out on me, crashing me back into the pillow.

"What?" I exclaimed, rolling off from my bed, but landing on the floor on my butt. The sheets were wrapped around my legs, keeping me from standing. After a short struggle, and a quick recovery of my bruised pride, I made it to the door. Before pulling it open, I grabbed a sweatshirt to cover up my bandage.

"It sounds like WW3 in there," he said, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," I said, tugging at the sweatshirt's hem, "What's this about the school?"

"Monday. Meeting," he said, "7:30 AM." I let my head hit against the doorframe. Instantly, I knew it was a bad idea. My head was already ringing, and I only added a dull throbbing. I had totally forgotten that Monday was when I'd meet the principal and tour the school. Some student was supposed to lead me around, let me shadow him or her for the day.

"Great," I muttered, then turned, heading to the bathroom.

"Be ready in an hour," he called from the doorway, "I'll drop you off."

"Thanks," I answered, in a rush to do everything in an hour. Something I wasn't really used to.

-

The school was larger than I thought. And there were more students that I had planned on seeing. The less the students, the less you get with stares and whispers and junk like that. Example. The first whisper I got was when I had been heading down the hallway, Lex walking next to me. We were on our way to the Principal's office, and a chick with three of her cheerleader friends had whispered with a clear voice, "I didn't know the Luthors were taking in dogs."

Lex had heard it, too, because he had pushed me into the Principal's office first, to make sure I wouldn't jump anyone. I knew that he also knew I would make a mental note of the skinny, little, brunet witch in the squad.

But I had to be on my best behavior. I already had one strike, and it didn't seem like Lex was a big fan of baseball, so I didn't have a luxury of a third one. If I was kicked out of this school, who knows where he would send me.

My hopes were on Boot Camp.

"Riley Wolfe, I presume?" Principal I-Never-Really-Bothered-to-Remember-His-Name asked, standing up and shaking my hand. He shook Lex's, too. There were some pleasantries, short conversations, which I wasn't really paying attention to. I was watching the chick outside the window, who was trying not to look like she was eavesdropping to find out what was up.

"Riley?" Lex asked, yanking me back into reality.

"Yes?" I said, a little surprised.

"I'm leaving, now," he said, "Have a nice day at school."

"Okay, bye," I said, giving him a smile. I watched him walk out, then saw a petite girl with short, blond hair that was flipped out in a kind of cool, laid-back way, walk in. She had a smile on her face. She didn't seem all that threatening, but instantly, anyone could tell she was always curious and bouncy.

"Miss Sullivan," Principal Whoever said, "I've assigned you to show our new student around."

"Oh, sure," she said, smiling, then turned to me.

"Make sure she leaves today in one piece?" he asked, making her laugh.

"I'll try," she said, ushering me out into the hallway.

There was a moment of silence, then she glanced at me. "Not a real talker, huh?"

"You'd be surprised," I said, glancing backward to take one last look at the girl who was sneering at me. I smiled, a glare just behind it. She turned, overly swishing her hair to walk in the opposite direction.

The girl I was walking with caught me attention, again, "I'm Chloe Sullivan."

"Riley Wolfe," I said.

"Oh, so you're the one Clark's been talking about," she said. If my bag didn't cross over my shoulder, I would have dropped it from my sudden halt.

"Clark?" I said, hysteria lining every inch of my voice. She looked a bit uneasy all of a sudden. Maybe because I just wigged at her. "What's he been saying about me?" Could Clark have told her about my powers? Could she know? I mean, what would stop him, now that we aren't friends?

"Well, he said that you're really cool," she said, slowly, choosing her words like they could have mines under them if she picked up the wrong one, "And that you two have a lot in common. I mean, since you two met, he hasn't stopped talking about you." Her eyebrows knitted together, trying to recover the last part of her sentence, "I mean, it's not like he blabs anything bad, he just... thinks you're really cool."

"Oh," I said, trying to shake off my paranoia, "Are you two friends?"

"We go way back," she said, seeming to be a little more relaxed, too, "Since 8th grade." There was that silence, again. I seem to not go anywhere without it. "Maybe we'll see him later."

"Oh, that's okay," I said quickly, as we stopped at a locker. It was mine, the one that was on a sheet of paper I had pulled out of my pocket.

"Still upset about your fight?" she asked. I looked up at her, my eyes wide. She was thrown back onto alert, "I don't know that much on it. Clark said that you two just got into a fight, and you didn't seem like you two were going to have a talk anytime soon."

"No, we won't," I said, pulling my bag over my head and letting it drop onto the floor, "He did something I can't really... forgive."

"What was that?" she asked. I was silent, trying to act like I was concentrating on the locker combination instead of re-envisioning the whole dream in my head. "Sorry. It's the journalist in me. I run the _Torch_."

"School newspaper?" I asked. She nodded. I went along with the much needed subject-change, "Sounds cool. I haven't really written an article, before."

"Maybe you can test-drive one. Write about some issue or the point of view of this school to a newcomer," she said, leaning on the locker next to mine. She watched as I popped the locker open and threw my stuff inside, "If you're interested."

"It _would_ give me something to do," I said, then shrugged, "I'll think about it."

"Cool," she said, then continued with something else, but I wasn't really paying attention. A familiar smell was caught in my nose. Something like hay and laundry detergent. It grew stronger as I sniffed, again. What was...?

"Clark!" Chloe said, making me jump. Quickly, I pulled some random notebook out of the locker and slammed it. Without even locking it, I turned, heading off in some aimless direction that didn't have Clark in it.

"Riley, wait!" Clark called, his voice making my feet move me in a faster pace. I felt kind of bad for leaving Chloe behind, but what could I do? I just didn't want to be around Clark. Who knows what he would do.

"Please, Riley, stop" Clark said, running to catch up with me. Quickly, I ducked into a classroom. It was vacant and the lights were off. It was the worst place I could have tried to hide.

Clark entered before the door even closed. He pushed his bag back up onto his shoulder, watching me as I turned to face him. My notebook dropped from my hands, clattering onto the hard floor.

"What do you want," I demanded, glaring at him, but fear was eating away at my stomach.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, taking a step towards me. I instantly put a desk between us. He looked hurt by it. Quite the good actor. "When I stopped by two nights ago, Lex said you didn't want to see anyone."

"No," I said, gritting my teeth, "He lied. I didn't want to see _you_."

"Why?" he said, astonished, "What's wrong?"

My jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?" I demanded, "Do you have some split personality or something? Some sort of memory damage? How could you ignore what you did to me!"

"What? What did I do?" he said.

"You lied to me! I thought we were friends! I thought you were trust-worthy enough to keep my secret!" I held my ground, my hand gripping the desk I had stepped around with such force that my fingers were aching. "But all along you were just playing with me! You had your own secret! You just let me find out by one of my stupid dreams!"

"Wait, you know?" Clark asked, fear washing over his face. He was so full of shit.

"Uh, _yeah_, I know!" I yelled, "I've got the marks to prove it!"

"I've never hurt you," he said, definitely.

"Bull shit!" I said, touching my shoulder. The bite was starting to throb. "You attacked me! How could you be so stupid to think that I wouldn't remember?"

"I'd never hurt you!" he insisted, "It must be from-"

"You know what you are, Clark Kent?" I said, my voice low and angry. My veins felt like they were pumping with energy, making me feel like I could take on anyone. Even the thing that was causing me so much pain. I just couldn't put up with anymore of his crap. I stepped up to him, looking up into his eyes with a glare, "You're a freak. And I won't rest until everyone knows about you. _Everyone_."

I went to shove past him, but he grabbed my arm. I turned to look back up at him, again. His eyes were so wide that I thought they were going to pop out of his head.

"Please, Riley, don't," he pleaded, "You have to believe me. I didn't do this to you."

"Oh? Then who did? The Invisible man?" I spat, then shoved his hand off my arm, "Don't touch me."

I marched back out into the hallway, heading back to my locker. I felt so angry, but at the same time, I felt like I was on a rush of adrenaline. My hands were aching and my spine felt like it was on fire. But I didn't care about any of it. I had just stood up to the thing that was supposed to be a major fear in my life and triumphed over it. I had wounded his pride. And at that moment, the tables had turned.

It was time to go onto the offense.

-

I sat with Chloe in the _Torch_ office, watching as she showed me the ropes. I had submitted myself to the school paper with more than the reason I told her. I was going to use its popularity to reveal Clark's darker side. The one that no one seemed to know about. Well, no one but me.

"Here, I'll give you your own sign-in name and password. After that, it's all downhill," Chloe said, leaning on her desk. I was sitting on a table with stacks of paper and books here and there. She walked over, extending a hand out for me to shake, "Welcome to the _Torch_, Riley. You've just become Smallville High's newest information provider."

"And I plan on giving them something quite good to read," I said, smiling.


	13. New Friend

The bed was clean. Not a drop of blood on it. The sheets looked like they hadn't let me and Clark's beast-form fall into them, through them and finally back into reality.

I sat down, drifting my hand across the soft silk-like feeling. The sheets were kind of messy, wrinkled as if someone just got up from them. The center of the mattress was still warm. Sighing, I looked out into the darkness, waiting to see if my mother would come. I strangely didn't want to see her, though. Maybe because I still had a bandage on my shoulder, where he bit me. I was glad it couldn't be seen through the long-sleeved, dark violet silk of my night shirt. But it let me know it was still there by the dull throb that snaked its way through my arm.

"Firefly?" my mother's voice echoed. My eyes snapped around, searching for her.

"Mom?" I asked.

"Firefly," my mother said, stepping into view. She smiled, clear, salty tears falling down her cheeks. She looked a little pale, but normal, compared to the other times I had visits from her. "I am so sorry." She ran to me, hugging me around the neck. Her red hair blanketed my face for a moment, but it fell away as she pulled back to look me in the eyes. "This is all my fault. All mine."

"What?" I asked, "Why?"

"Because I brought this upon you," she said, sitting down next to me, "If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened."

"No," I said, shaking my head, "You didn't do this. You didn't bite me, or attack me. You were warning me."

"Listen to me, Firefly," she said, cupping her hands over my cheeks, "You have to stop him."

"I know," I said, "He's going to kill people, if I don't."

"No," she said, "Not because of that. You need to stop him because if you don't, you will..."

_Miss Wolfe_, a voice came into my head. It was so loud that it made the bed shake. I looked around, seeing the darkness blurring with different colors.

"Oh, no," I said, just as my eyes snapped open, showing me a classroom, complete with students and a teacher who as standing right next to my desk.

"Oh, yes, Miss Wolfe," Mrs. Another-Name-I -Couldn't-Remember said to me, her arms crossed. The look on her face seemed strained and angry. I would have blamed the gray bun on the top of her head for being too tightly wound, if she wasn't staring at me like I had... just fallen asleep in class... Aw, _dammit_!

"Now, if my class is too boring for you, maybe you can go catch a nap in the Principal's office?"

"No, no," I said, "The class isn't boring at all. I can stay awake." I heard giggles from the back of the room. One female one sounded really familiar.

"Good," she said, sticking her nose in the air and eyeing me with a cold glare. She turned, walking to the front of the class, "And to ensure that not just Miss Wolfe will stay awake, I have assigned extra homework for tonight." A chorus of 'oohs' and whines bombarded me, making me cringe a little. I just wanted to sink into my seat and disappear.

"But Mrs. Herdley," one boy spoke up, "It's football, tonight!"

"Then I suggest, Mr. Jimms, that you finish as much as you can during class, and not gome off like yesterday," Mrs. Herdley said. She started to raddle off page numbers and problems, writing them on the black board as she went. I was still half-gone. I couldn't remember if this was Chemistry or World History.

I soon came to my senses enough to write down on some random page what she had put down on the board. Even though I had the information, and suddenly realized it was a Math class, I could only think about what my mother was trying to say. What about me? What will happen to me?

Well, at least I didn't get a rude awakening with a ruler, like Private School. The teachers were nicer here.

I then glanced at Mrs. Herdley.

Okay, maybe not.

End of the day, and it was time for the dreaded school bus. I had stopped to watch it from the doors that led out to the parking lot where they all were rumbling kind of sickly. I glanced around, trying to find someone, anyone that would give me a ride.

Shaking my head, I started to walk out of the doors and towards the bus. A paper plane flew out through the window, almost colliding with my head. Okay, maybe I would have a nice walk to get home. But I knew by the time I would get there, it would be dark. And Clark might be out hunting.

"Suck it up," I told myself, trying not to watch the many students bouncing around the bus's isle through the windows. "It's just a bus. Just some kids. No big." Just before I reached the door and to what seemed like the pit of hell (a scream of what I guessed and hoped was laughter rang right on cue), I caught sight of a guy with black hair walking around the side of the building and heading down the sidewalk. It was Zan! And he was taking out a set of keys!

Pushing myself from the doorway, I ran to his sun-bleached, rusty truck, leaning in to smile at him through the passenger window. I expected to see him jump, for having someone suddenly standing right at his truck window, but he just looked over at me and smiled.

"Saw you running," he said, then jutting his head to the empty seat, "Need a ride?"

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" I said, opening the door and taking my bag off. I threw it into the bed of the truck just before hopping into the passenger side.

"Don't like busses?" he asked, laughing a little. He set the keys into the ignition, turning it to let the engine roar to life. Before I could answer with a quick and witty remark, the radio started to play. Strangely, it was a song that was along the lines of a pop, love-song. Was that... _NSYNC_? Glancing sideways at him, I gave him a quizzical look. He looked back at me, a little red in the cheeks. "You didn't hear a thing," he said, changing the channel to the local rock station.

"Not one note," I said, grinning, looking out through the side window. I caught a quick glance of Clark standing next to his own red truck. He didn't look too happy as he watched us drive off.

Zan pulled up to my driveway, stopping just at the front door. I opened the door, getting out, then turning to grab my bag from the bed.

"Hey, Riley," Zan said, catching my attention. He was leaning closer to the passenger window, propped up by one hand, the other still holding onto the steering wheel.

"Yeah?" I asked, looking back at him. He looked a little nervous.

"Do you... uh... well, do you want to hang out?" he asked, then quickly added, "Later?"

"Like, this weekend, later?" I asked.

"If it's clear for you," he said. I shrugged, trying my hardest to be casual. I was glad my fidgeting hands were out of sight, just under the truck window.

"Sure," I said, then pulled my bag around, ripping a piece of paper from a notebook. Retrieving a pen as well, I wrote down my number, making sure that it was the one to my most recent residence. It would kind of suck if he called Vermont. "Here's my number," I said, handing it to him. But then I paused, "Wait, do you have a phone?"

"A cell," he said.

"Oh," I nodded, my cheeks turning pink, "Okay, just checking." He smiled at me, folding the piece of paper up and placing it in his jeans pocket.

We just sat there for a second or two, my face still red and he was still smiling at me. I looked down, shrugging, trying to block my own smile.

"Well, see you later?" I said, shifting my weight, scratching the side of my neck as a comfort movement.

"Yeah," he said, his charm still shining as he sat back up, "'Bye." I stepped back, watching as he drove off down the driveway and through the gate.

Bouncing up the steps, I walked through the heavy front door, leaning on it after I closed it. Immediately, I leaped practically out of my skin, Lex standing just on the other side of the foyer.

"Have a nice ride?" he asked, his hands in his pockets as he walked towards me. He was smirking.

"Yes," I said, "And I found that trucks are a lot nicer than busses."

"How could you compare?" he asked, stopping a few feet away, "You've never ridden a bus."

"Your point?" I asked, but tried not to stick around for his Twenty Questions game. I brushed past him, making my way to the stairs.

"Who was that?" he asked. I stopped, sighing as I turned back around. He closed the gap between himself and the door, taking a moment to look out of the window.

"A friend," I said, simply, and trying to keep the conversation simple. But with Lex, that was never a possibility.

"Does this friend have a name?" he continued, still watching through the window.

"Zan Hemming," I said.

"He doesn't look like a student to me," he said, finally turning to me. I tilted my head at him.

"He's been out for a year," I said, "Why the questions, Lex?" He suddenly turned serious, as if someone flicked a switch just behind his eyes.

"Because I've seen the ones you had chosen to be your friends, back in Vermont," he said, taking his hands from his pockets, "I know what kind of people they are. What trouble they got you into. I don't want to see that happen here."

"Why do you suddenly care who I'm friends with?" I asked, leaning on one leg and crossing my arms, "You didn't with Clark."

"Because I know Clark," he said, "And now that you two don't seem to be the tightly-nit duo, anymore, there's a good chance that you might slip into the wrong crowd."

"How'd you know..." I asked.

"The incessant calls," he said, "Which never seem to be for me, anymore." He took a few steps towards me, giving me a questioning look, "Why is it that you're not taking his..."

"You're prying," I said, shaking a finger at him, "My friendships aren't of any business of yours." He nodded, only half defeated.

"Maybe not with Clark," he said, "But when it comes tostrangers whom I've never heard of, it becomes my business."

"Not when I say it isn't," I said, giving an icy stare then turning to head to my room, rubbing my arm that was practically burning as I reached the top of the stairs. I had some Math homework to do. And then maybe a bit of football. I could use a little fun.


End file.
